Yesterday is Tomorrow (Everything is Connected)
by Kneazle
Summary: James Potter went five years at Hogwarts without realizing Lily had a little sister. Hermione would have preferred if he never realized she existed. Now she's stuck, in Potter's circle of awareness, and maintaining the timeline. Not like he makes it easy, or something.
1. Everything is Connected

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

* * *

 **Note:** While this is a "Hermione is Lily's sister" story, I am attempting to avoid some of the usual cliches found in these stories (all which were excellent, btw), by 1) removing Hermione as Lily's twin; 2) not inserting Hermione into the lives of familiar characters, until much later.

* * *

 **Narrator:** We trust that time is linear. That it proceeds eternally, uniformly. Into infinity. But the distinction between past, present and future is nothing but an illusion. Yesterday, today and tomorrow are not consecutive, they are connected in a never-ending circle. Everything is connected.

\- _Dark_ (2017-present), 1x01: "Secrets"

* * *

"Miss Evans, can you stay behind a moment?"

Hermione sighed, looking longingly down at her gathered up parchment, filled with her neat cursive script, full of ideas and arithmancy equations that she wanted to attempt in the Room of Requirements. She glanced up at the professor - not Professor Vector, as that was the Arithmancy professor in her time, but an old, white-haired hawkish-looking man that was a cross between Einstein's eccentricities and a looming Snape - and then glanced pointedly at her kinetic-wound watch on her left wrist. Arithmancy was, sadly, her last class on Tuesdays, and therefore she did not have an excuse to run away from Professor Pythas.

Some of the Hufflepuffs - the two in the class - shot her sympathetic looks but the Ravenclaws, her fellow housemates, ignored her. There was a lone Gryffindor Hermione didn't know well, and several Slytherins she was on vaguely friendly terms with. They were all sixth year students, and she was only fourteen. Or so. Age was difficult.

"Sure, professor," said Hermione instead, turning around with a bright smile on her face. She slid back into her seat.

The man heaved a sigh as he slid into the spare seat in front of her desk, moving slowly as he bent his knees and his rear rested on the hard wooden surface of the chair. "Ahh," he groaned, reaching behind to rub at his back. "These old bones aren't what they used to be."

"I'm sure, sir," replied Hermione, politely, if not confused. "But you don't look a day over seventy."

"Ha!" the man barked, pointing a finger at her. "You're a wonderful student, Miss Evans, but an accomplished liar you are _not_."

 _If that's what you think,_ she thought, darkly, but allowed the same bright smile she presented him with earlier to grace her lips.

"No, I'm not a day over one hundred and four, but these old bones are _tired_ ," the man muttered, "I should really ask Albus for retirement soon…"

Hermione cleared her throat. She did have a library to get to, and a Room of Requirement to spend her afternoon enclosed in, eventually. "Sir, what is this about?"

Professor Pythas nodded. "Right. Yes. Of course. You see, Miss Evans - Hermione - you really are quite the accomplished student. I wasn't just saying that, dear."

Hermione nodded. She knew she was an accomplished student, as per his words. That's what happens when you're practically a genius, and already went through Hogwarts once before, even if she did never complete her seventh year or technically graduate. The Ministry still hired her, and she did have the added bonus of being in her forties when she "died."

"I daresay you're even brighter than your older sister!" the man continued, chortling. "Anyway - myself a few other professors, namely Professor Janulus and Professor Flitwick, think that you're not being challenged enough with the sixth year curriculum in Arithmancy, Runes, and Charms."

Hermione made a noise.

"Professor Janulus and I strongly advocated for your skipping ahead to your NEWT year, but Professor Flitwick thinks that self-study might be more in your interest," the man continued, his eyes watching Hermione keenly. "I know that you are a raven out of the nest, being the only fourth year in NEWT preparation. But you always had quite the understanding of ancient languages and numbers in ways that I haven't seen in years…"

 _Benefits of time travel and death, just reliving my life, Professor,_ thought Hermione snarkily, but she shrugged in response to the man's words, instead. "Numbers is just another language, professor. And I like languages."

 _Also true,_ thought Hermione, as in her - first? Previous? Other? - life, she had known several languages and added more the longer she worked in the Ministry.

Professor Pythas reached forward and patted Hermione's hands, neatly laced together and resting on top of the desk. "Oh, I know my dear. But, well, Professor Flitwick is a bit correct that you will probably be happier in self-study until the the end of the year, when Professor Janulus and I think you're ready to write your NEWTs. Or, you can wait until next year to do so."

Two NEWTs before graduating Hogwarts? Hermione's eyebrows went sky-high. _That_ would look quite nice on her resume, and would help her gain a Mastery.

"That sounds… _quite nice_ , Professor," she finally said, putting enough emphasis on the two words as a form of shock. Sometimes she hated herself for playing her professors, some she knew well - or, used to know. Will know. UGH. - but another part of her took one look at a bunch of rowdy fifth-year Gryffindors and she wanted nothing to do with her (not-)sister's housemates.

Professor Pythas beamed back at her. "Wonderful, wonderful. I certainly won't mind you continuing to use the class for your own research, as long as you're quiet, which you are, Miss Evans."

Hermione didn't mind that either. She then smoothly rose from her seat, just as Professor Pythas did as well. The man was already moving to the chalkboard, erasing his equations and prepping for his next class, when Hermione finished placing her papers and textbooks in her bag.

She was almost at the door when he called her name.

Hermione turned around.

"Oh, there's one last thing, Hermione, dear," the man called. "Since you are the best we have, I was wondering if you'd be interested in tutoring a student? He needs some help - his mother is actually quite insistent on it, and she's an old, dear friend - and I thought, 'why! Hermione could do it!'"

Hermione pursed her lips. _Tutor a student? But… my research…!_

Something must have shown on her face because the professor shook his head. "Only for an hour or two a week, Miss Evans. Surely you can spare an hour or two?"

 _When you put it that way…_ "Sure, professor. Who?"

* * *

Hermione was viciously stabbing her broccoli when her best friend in this time slid onto the bench in the Great Hall beside her silently, watching with wide brown eyes. His nose twitched and Hermione slanted a glance at him.

"What?" she growled out.

"Did the broccoli do something to you?" he asked, reaching forward and spooning other veg from the bowl nearest him before moving to his meats.

Hermione scowled. "No. I'm just imaging Professor Pythas' face."

Her friend's eyebrows shot up. " _Really_? You're practically his darling. I'm sure he actually likes you more than he likes his family. What could he have possibly done to make you that angry?"

Hermione dropped the fork on her plate with a clatter and ran her hands through her hair, getting her fingers caught in the curls. She yanked them out and then gathered the dark brown curls shot through with red into a ponytail that turned into a lopsided bun.

"I'm tutoring someone in arithmacy for two hours a week, starting Friday," she muttered.

"... you've tutored people before," her friend pointed out, frowning. "Why is this a problem _now_?"

"It's more of an issue with the _who_ ," retorted Hermione.

"Surely not another Ravenclaw," her friend replied, affronted. "None of them need tutoring, first of all; and second, none would willingly want to be in your company, Hermione."

The dead-eye stare Hermione gave her friend would have made a lesser man shrink back a bit. "Thanks _a lot_ , Barty."

Bartemius Crouch Junior shrugged, instead, shoving a piece of cut pork into his mouth. He chewed noisily and then licked his lips with an exaggerated, " _yum_."

"No, it's not a Ravenclaw," she answered, glancing around at their housemates. None particularly cared for her - from the moment she stepped into Hogwarts, Lily nattering in her ear about how _they were going to have so much fun in Gryffindor!_ And _You'll love it, Hermione, I swear!_ , Hermione noped out of there as quickly as possible when the Sorting Hat offered Gryffindor.

She wore red and yellow once. She bled that red, too. Never again.

The soothing tones of blue and bronze beckoned, and she went to the first House ever offered her at Hogwarts, and joined Ravenclaw. Personally, she thought she dodged a bullet - or bludger, if you wanted wizarding idioms. _Especially_ when she saw the latest prank James Potter and Sirius Black cooked up.

"Who then? Some dundering Hufflepuff?"

"What did Hufflepuff ever do to you?" she asked back.

Together, they glanced over at the Hufflepuff table between them and Gryffindor, and watched as two girls braided another girls' hair at the table, wide smiles on their faces and compliments passing their mouths ever other word.

Barty turned back to Hermione, the expression on his face saying everything.

"Yeah, point made," she sighed. "No, not Hufflepuff."

"And let's be honest, no Slytherin would willingly have a Muggleborn tutor them," sighed Barty, glancing at the Slytherin table, as well as their only other friend, who caught their eyes, frowned, and then pointedly ignored them.

"Wanker," muttered Barty under his breath.

Hermione shrugged. "Whatever. Pureblood politics."

Barty glared at her. " _I'm_ a Pureblood."

"You make a bad Pureblood," replied Hermione without heat. "You know all the words to Roberta Flack's _Killing Me Softly with His Song_ , and last time you heard the record, you _cried_."

"I did not!" hotly retorted Barty. "I mean, I _do_ not. Know the lyrics, that is."

"Uh huh," replied Hermione.

"And how did this become about _me_?" he continued, glaring at her from beneath his brown fringe. "I thought we were trying to figure out the identity of your new tutoree."

"I know who it is," replied Hermione evenly. "Not you. It's _you_ who is trying to figure it out."

"Well, when it puts my best friend in such a terrible mood, then, _yeah_ , I want to know who it is," said Barty, all playfulness from his voice gone.

Hermione marvelled at his mood changes and swings, but knew that they would only get worse as he got older. It was odd seeing the behaviours and habits of her not-Professor-Moody-but-really-Barty-Crouch-the-Death-Eater in her friend.

"So. Who is it?"

Hermione sighed, and woefully, she turned her head back towards the Hufflepuff table, and then looked beyond. Looked specifically at a group of four fifth-year boys who were laughing uproariously about something or the other - at her sister, her long shiny red hair cascading down her back with her face matching the colour as she shouted angrily at the four teens.

Barty's eyes followed hers.

"Oh. _Oh_."

Then:

"Wait - which one?"

Hermione's sigh grew heavier. Out of the four boys, she could ignore the sandy blond hair of Remus Lupin, with his silvery scars on his face and general genial personality. He was smart enough to be a Prefect and didn't take Arithmancy. Peter Pettigrew, blonde and short, but lean, was not academic slouch either, but his interests lay in potions, not numbers, and he too, did not take arithmancy.

Sirius Black and James Potter, on the other hand, both did - but only one had the natural ability to continue doing well in the course while Hermione was sure the other just took it because her sister was taking it as an elective.

She explained the process of elimination to Barty, who only had two words the sum the entire situation up for her:

"Well. Fuck."

* * *

It happened something like this:

Hermione was forty-seven when some neo-Death Eater group _somehow_ broke into the Ministry one random, rainy Tuesday. Hermione was not supposed to be in work. Hermione was not supposed to let her curiosity get the better of her, and quickly found herself with her best friend, Harry Potter and Head of the Auror Department, back to back, fighting.

They were in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry, being Harry, did something stupid.

His spell mixed with the spell of the neo-Death Eater, and they ricocheted off one another, hitting the wall behind Hermione.

A wall filled with jars and containers of gaseous clouds or strange swirling liquids of half-forgotten experiments. The jars broke and the contents spilled all over Hermione.

By the time she figured out what happened, she was two years old, and quickly realizing that she was being weaned off diapers.

The temper tantrum that followed was still spoken about in the Evans household with hushed, reverent tones.

It took some time, but Hermione came to the realization that she had somehow been reborn - accidentally or on purpose, who knew - as Hermione Evans. Evans, as in Petunia and Lily. As in, Harry's mother and spiteful aunt.

 _Potter luck_ , thought Hermione, darkly. She'd murder Harry once he was actually born. She'd figure out the logistics later.

In the years that followed, Hermione grew up as Petunia and Lily's younger sister, the youngest child of Leo and Rose Evans and consequently, the babied one. But, Hermione being Hermione, decided quickly that the easiest way she was going to keep her sanity in the coming years was by being precocious (understatement), and set out to master walking and talking, and more importantly, _reading_.

(She did, to everyone's amazement.)

From there, she made lists. Oodles of them. Lists of important events that hadn't happened yet but were politically important; lists of things she would need or wanted as she got older that were unique to her Hermioneness. And then, a List of Important Shit Not to Get Involved In.

That list consisted of the following:

\- If attending Hogwarts, do not pick Gryffindor

\- If attending Hogwarts, AVOID the following people: Lily Evans, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape…

\- DO NOT CATCH DUMBLEDORE'S ATTENTION

\- Pass your NEWTs. You never did before (#goals)

Initially, not wanting to be around the familiar faces and names of her future was less to do with disrupting the time/space continuum, if that was even applicable currently, and more about not bursting into tears at the sight of her favourite Professor and his kind words, or hearing the barking laugh that never failed to make her smile or roll her eyes, equally.

If she caught Dumbledore's attention, she knew she'd be shortlisted for his Order of the Phoenix, and quite frankly, Hermione had enough of fighting. Or at least, fighting _his_ war.

So, when it came to Hogwarts, Hermione decided her best option was to be quiet, to be plain, and to be invisible. Unfortunately, that lasted all of three seconds until a boy accidentally barrelled into her as they were getting into the boats that took the first years across the lake, and she and the boy she had been behind, were sent tumbling into the icy cold water of the Black Lake.

Pale faced and blue-lipped, the three of them shivered their way across the Lake as the caretaker, Ogg, couldn't do magic and therefore couldn't warm them up with a charm. They were met in the small alcove below the Great Hall by Professor McGonagall and (a _very_ young) Madam Pomfrey, who fussed over her and the two boys.

The boy who knocked her over apologized profusely, almost zealously, his face an embarrassed pink. She, she knew, looked like a drowned rat, but took his apologies with kindness. The other boy, with his black hair so dark and shiny when wet it looked blue, refused his apologies.

"I'd rather be friends with the squid," the black haired boy sniffly said. "I don't care for Ministry brats."

Hermione gaped at him. The other boy gaped at him. Then, angrily, she snapped - completely forgetting her plan to be invisible - "Well, with that attitude, that's all you'll likely ever have. I'd rather be friends with a Ministry brat than an elitist toerag."

The brown-haired boy who barrelled into her turned with wide eyes, hero-worship growing. The black-haired boy, did not. "I'm not a toerag! You take that back!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are _too_!"

"Are _not_!"

"What's a toerag?"

The innocent question from the brown-haired boy stopped Hermione and the other, and somehow - something - struck them as funny because they collapsed into giggles ahead of the Sorting, cementing a friendship.

"I'm Barty," said the brown-haired boy, shyly. "Barty Crouch, Junior."

"A _Junior_?" sneered the black haired boy. "Well, I'm Regulus Black."

Barty blinked at him innocently. "Don't you mean, Regulus Black the Second?"

Hermione snorted and introduced herself, "Hermione Gr- _Evans_. Hermione Evans."

And neither said anything about her slip. Or her last name. And that was it, at least for friends. Her fellow Ravenclaws hated how smart she was (benefits of doing the curriculum twice over and being, you know, _older_ than them); she doubted the Gryffindors even knew who she was, connected to Lily Evans or not; and the Hufflepuffs were friendly with anyone who smiled at them. The Slytherins were aware of her, but in a vague, _oh, Regulus's pet Mudblood_ way.

And Hermione liked it like that. She liked having four years of relative peace and quiet for her Hogwarts years. She liked having the Room of Requirements to herself, a place where she could hide away and conduct the same experiments she was working on when she died/not died, and advance magical society decades earlier than she had planned.

Until now, that was.

"Well. Fuck." indeed. There went her peace and quiet.

* * *

TBC...

* * *

 **Note:** Professor Pythas comes from Pythagoras; Professor Janulus is from Powell Janulus, a Canadian polyglot who knows 42 languages fluently.

Infrequent updates. This plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone.


	2. It's a Curse

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected) - 2

* * *

 **Rita** : Sometimes I wish I had a thousand lifetimes. I don't know, Phil. Maybe it's not a curse. Just depends on how you look at it.

\- _Groundhog Day_ (1993)

* * *

When anyone asked Leo Evans about his daughters, or Rose Evans, his wife, they would have this to say about them:

Petunia, their eldest, was as curly-haired and blonde as Leo, but as lithe as her mother. She had green eyes and was a proper little girl, always wearing freshly pressed pinafores and and shiny black Mary Janes. She had proper manners, "yes sir," and "yes, ma'am," and could be as sweet as pie. However, their eldest daughter, burdened with responsibility as the eldest, also had a mean streak as large as the English Channel, and could hold a grudge forever. She might forgive, but she never forgot.

Lily, their middle child and two years younger than Petunia, was bright and inquisitive. She spoke her mind and had a fiery temper that matched her mother's Irish red hair, green eyes, and thin body. She had the grace of a dancer, the spirit of a fey, and the gumption to back it all up. She was polite, to a point, until she thought someone was stepping on her toes and then she made her opinion known.

Hermione, however… well… she was a bit odd. Their youngest daughter was a surprise - where Lily was born in January of 1959, Hermione was due for December but was born prematurely on September 19. Their youngest had her father's brown eyes and curly hair, but a shade of dark brown that was streaked with undertones of Rose's red. She too, took after Rose in body shape but whereas Petunia aimed to please, and Lily aimed to change the world, Hermione aimed to do… nothing. Ever since she was a toddler, the child had been grumpy, despondent, or in the throes of grief.

Leo and Rose had taken her to her pediatrician on a weekly basis and then eventually a child psychologist, who, completely befuddled, had announced that "Hermione seems to be in the middle of the stages of grief," but no one knew why.

Hermione knew, of course.

She was a forty-seven year old woman trapped in the body of a two year old. Upon realizing what had happened - although she _still_ wasn't entirely sure, but she blamed Harry and the Potter luck - Hermione railed against being stuck in a toddler's body.

Well, first she was in denial. She was in her forties! Not _two_. Surely that miscast spell didn't _send her back in time -_ rather, it killed her. And this was a horrific form of the afterlife.

Two years of thinking that swiftly turned into anger: anger at Harry, for casting his signature spell in the first place that struck the shelf of artifacts in the Department of Mysteries without thinking of the consequences of spellfire in a dangerous area; anger at Hermione's situation for having to relive childhood; and then anger at realizing it was the bloody _1960s_ and she had her magic and Voldemort was still alive.

By the time Hermione started nursery, a year after Lily, she was firmly settled into the "bargaining" stage. She prayed to God in church on Sundays at her mother's side; she then prayed to Merlin. Neither heard or answered her prayers, so she got creative: she prayed to Morgana, and Hectate, and then Circe, Isis, Diana, Freyja.

None answered, and she slid into depression, one so deep she knew her parents worried for her mental state and Lily and Petunia were sometimes near tears trying to cheer their youngest sister up.

And then, Lily's Hogwarts letter came.

* * *

Hermione was impatiently tapping the solid end of her quill against the desk she had claimed as her own back in her first year the first time around, and the one that she used _this_ time around as well. It was a tiny alcove off to the main library area, still visible to some but secluded enough that most didn't infringe on her when she was trying to do work.

Lily knew where she sat, and given that she sat on the other side of the desk - visible to all who walked into the library and looked around - Hermione knew that James Potter wouldn't be able to miss her.

Except for the fact that he was already twenty minutes later to their first - and if this kept up, _only_ \- tutoring session.

 _Harry would've shown up on time_. Hermione ruthlessly smothered her ire. Did she honestly expect anything different from James Potter? From the four years she had been at Hogwarts in this time, she knew what the teenager was like. And, over the years, when Harry could spare the time to tell her about what he saw in Snape's pensieve, she had a good idea that _that_ was an accurate representation of him. But comparing him - even unfavourably - to Harry would only dredge up memories better left forgotten.

Instead, she grit her teeth and her hand clenched around her quill, neatly snapping it in two. _This is for Harry. For_ Harry _. HAR-REE_. _Remember, Hermione - for Harry. So you can kill him later._

"Whoa, Evans," a voice said above her, making her jerk her head up in surprise. "Anger issues, much?" He then paused, looked at her, and asked, skeptically, "It _is_ Hermione Evans, right?"

Hermione took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and counted to ten. In ancient Greek. And then she opened them and impassively surveyed James Potter.

 _He was mildly attractive,_ she supposed, wrinkling her nose just a bit, _if one ignored his personality or when he opened his mouth_.

He was tall, and broad-shouldered, and he had an easy grin and charm that fell off him. His Gryffindor jumper fit well, and his tie was neatly knotted, and his trousers were pressed perfectly. If it weren't for his black, wind-swept hair, Hermione wouldn't even peg Harry as a relative - they were too different, too fundamentally different.

Where James held his shoulders back in confidence, Harry had slouched. Where James' hazel eyes gleamed with mischief, Harry's sparkled with danger. The cockiness in James' voice was as different as the wariness in Harry's.

 _Separating them into two different people is going to be_ ridiculously _easy,_ thought Hermione, almost in surprise. All she - and Harry, in retrospect - had ever heard was how like his father he was… _lies_.

"Yeah, I'm Hermione," said Hermione eventually. She loosened her grip on the two pieces of snapped quill, and glanced at it. Letting the pieces fall from her hand, she then casually waved her palm above it, and nonverbally cast a _reparo_. Potter's eyes went wide.

"Whoa," he muttered, his eyes darting from the quill to her. "Wait, you're a _fourth_ year?"

"Correct," she muttered. "Also: you're late."

"What? Wait, no -"

" _Wait, no_ ," she mimicked nastily in a slightly higher voice than her normal one. "Actually, yes you are. Our tutoring session was scheduled to begin at four o'clock, _sharp_. It is now four-thirty, and we are thirty minutes behind. Sit your arse down, open your book, and show me your most recent homework."

Potter's mouth, which had dropped open when she interrupted him, snapped shut. His eyes blazed in fury, and, although he fell in the seat opposite her, he leaned forward and snarled across the table, "Who the hell are you to talk to me like that?"

Hermione gazed back at him, nonplussed by the threat in his voice. "I thought we covered that already, or do you have short-term memory problems? That could explain your inability to learn arithmancy. I'm Hermione Evans. Remember? Your arithmancy tutor?"

He rocked back in his seat, staring at her.

She waited patiently, almost as though she could hear the rusty cogs in his brain going _tick-tick-tick_. "You're nothing like your sister."

"Yep," replied Hermione with forced, false cheerfulness. "Now. Arithmancy. Let's get this over with so I can tell Pythas that I _tried_ , but you weren't interested and we can both end this sham of a wasted Friday night. I'm sure you have better things to do, because I sure as hell do."

There was something odd in Potter's eyes that Hermione couldn't read - another difference to Harry; her best friend had been an open book - but the fifth year Gryffindor yanked his battered arithmancy text from his bag, slammed it on the table. Inside the front cover were several hastily shoved in loose parchment, which Hermione discovered was his homework for the past three weeks of September, covered in the red ink Pythas favoured for marking things incorrectly.

She grimaced and carefully pinched one piece of parchment between two fingers, edging it towards her like it was the skinny version of the Monster Book of Monsters. Her nose wrinkled. "Is that - is that _pumpkin juice_ on your homework?"

Potter rocked the chair back on its two legs and crossed his arms as he gazed at her from behind his glasses. "Yep."

"Did you - did you spill it _before_ or _after_ you did your homework?" she looked sick just thinking about the runny ink on the page, and what potential answer Potter would give her.

There was something devilish in his eyes and his smile when he purred out, " _Before_."

Hermione whimpered.

* * *

Hermione entered the Ravenclaw Common Room ten minutes to curfew - which was normal for her, any day of the week. Barty, as usual, was waiting for her on the couch facing the door. He didn't look up as he called, "So, how was it? Did you make Potter beg for your help?"

When she didn't reply, he looked up and then nearly flew off the couch.

"Merlin, Hermione!" She stood just inside the door, pale and wide-eyed. It was almost like she was shell shocked. Barty frantically raced over and, forgetting he was a wizard, began to run his hands up and down her arms, shoulders, neck.

"Were you pranked? Did they prank you? Are you hurt?"

His questions came fast and furious, but it wasn't until one of his hands grazed her breast that she snapped out of it and began slapping his hands away.

"Well, excuse me," he said sniffly, stepping back.

Hermione wearily trudged over to the couch Barty vacated and fell heavily into the plush blue fabric.

Sighing, Barty followed and then sat next to her. "That bad?"

"I - I honestly don't know," replied Hermione, eventually, still wide-eyed. "He was late. By thirty minutes. His homework is - is _atrocious_. I don't even think he knows what he's supposed to be _doing_." She shook her head. "I don't even know how he passed his fourth year."

Barty was silent, so Hermione glanced over at him and saw he was nervously licking his lips - the very same bad habit that outed him to his father once upon a future time.

"What?" she asked.

"Are you still going to tutor him?" he eventually asked.

Hermione half-shook her head, then nodded, and then settled on a shrug. "I don't think so," she finally said, chewing on her bottom lip. "He didn't seem that interested in learning anyway - he kept asking me about my sister. I think after tonight he'll forget all about me."

Barty looked skeptical, but they parted ways for their separate beds and Hermione, firmly, repeated to herself before falling asleep: _James Potter won't even remember me. See? Everything is fine. Everything will be fine_.

* * *

Elsewhere, James Potter returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Sirius Black, his best friend, looked up from here he was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing Exploding Snap with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. It was late, it was dark, and James hastily stuffed his invisibility cloak in his bag.

"Well, mate?" asked Sirius. "How was it? Who's the 'Claw tutoring you?"

James fell into a vacant armchair and grinned. "Hermione Evans."

" _Evans_?" repeated Sirius, gapping.

Remus frowned. "Lily's younger sister?"

James whipped his head around to face his friend. "You _knew_ she has a sister?"

Remus stared at him. " _You_ didn't?"

Sirius snorted a laugh loudly, thinking it hilarious that Remus knew something about his precious "Lily-flower" that he didn't know.

James flushed and pulled at his collar. "Yes, well -"

"Whatever," dismissed Sirius, turning back to his cards, "Now that Jimmy did his duty, we can get our Friday nights back and he won't be going to these stupid tutoring sessions anymore." There was silence, so Sirius slowly raised his head and looked at James. " _Right?_ "

James shrugged. "I thought I could ask her more about her sister, you know?"

Remus shot him a disapproving look, and Peter asked, quietly, "You're going to ask Lily's sister about Lily… so you... know more about Lily?"

James nodded emphatically.

Remus groaned.

Sirius was caught between grinning at the great idea and frowning at the loss of his friend. "Well…"

"Also," continued James, "She's _hilarious_ to wind up. Angrier than a wet nundu. It'll be great. After all, what harm can a puny little fourth year do?"

* * *

On weekends, Hermione disappeared from Ravenclaw and Hogwarts life completely. The first few months in her first year, Barty - who trailed after her like some silent, puppyish Neville Longbottom - attempted to follow but Hermione knew the passageways in and out of Hogwarts, and had access to the Room of Requirements. It was easy to give him the slip.

Then, of course, once Barty had told Regulus what was going on, the sneaky Slytherin tagged her with a locator charm and the two cornered her when she returned to the Great Hall for dinner Sunday evening.

 _Busted_ , their collectively disapproving eleven-year-old eyes seemed to say.

In hindsight, Hermione's plans were tossed out of the window the moment Barty bumped into her. There was no way they were going to let her disappear - a Muggleborn who was more secretive than the sneakiest of Slytherins? More knowledgeable on material than any Ravenclaw? She was walking catnip to both of them: Regulus who was _interested_ in her and her secrets, and Barty, who was _curious_ about her abilities. (Regretfully, Hermione wondered if maybe being a swotty know-it-all would've been a better cover than silent-but-deadly-smart-nobody. Ah well, too late to change now.)

Hermione didn't give up all her secrets, but she knew of an abandoned set of rooms underneath a staircase by the dungeons that she had… "claimed" when she (returned?) first arrived at Hogwarts. She was using it to conduct her experiments.

First year, it was going through her textbooks nonverbally. While she could do most of those spells as an _adult_ , she was no longer in her forties. She no longer had settled magic, or a fully-grown body. She had to _relearn_ things, like her magical muscle memory. Barty and Regulus joined, because she was well-read and her explanations - honed over years of dumbing things down for Harry, Ron, and Neville - meant that she could explain the theory-heavy texts behind things in ways that were easier to grasp.

Of course, these were Pureblood boys from houses that already taught them these spells, so they knew the material - but Hermione was an _inventor_. She made _changes_. Not to potions - like Snape - or even to the actual material in the way that he did, writing in his textbooks and the like. No, Hermione took the spells, the results, and wondered _what if_?

Once upon a time, she was content to leave things as they were - 'if it's not broke, don't fix it' was practically thirteen-year-old Hermione's motto - but in the Ministry, Hermione discovered tiny variations of spells and their histories that were kept separate from the general public. Saw what variations could do in the field when Harry and Ron would return from an Auror mission with new cuts and scars. And she wondered - _what if I changed something too?_

In the future - her past or present, whatever - Hermione was working on transmutations. She was brilliant at transfiguration, always picking up McGonagall's spells first in the class. She wasn't quite the prodigy, because she _analyzed_ things too much, but her love for her favourite class at Hogwarts, Arithmancy, meant that she could combine the two into transmutation - something never really covered academically.

Transfiguration was the change in something's appearance or form; transmutation was the subatomic change of one item into another form completely. The Philosopher's Stone was a transmutation, of sorts. Its alchemical properties allowed for coal to become gold; for someone mortal to become _im_ mortal by changing their cellular structure.

Hermione didn't want to create a Philosopher's Stone. Immortality was _boring_. She wanted to be challenged - she wanted to transmute things that would hold weight, relevance, that would stay and not fade after the transfiguration wore off or was forced back to its original appearance.

Hence, combining the arithmetic structure of spells with transfiguration. It was a work in progress, but she was getting there. Sort of.

Barty and Regulus benefitted from Hermione's research, as their own academic interests began to branch out and vary into fields most ignored. Unfortunately, Hermione was certain that their abilities and interest in transmutation and more esoteric magic meant they were shiny baubles Voldemort was going to want, but… well… she'd get to that eventually.

Instead, they plied her and her research with books from their libraries, carefully snuck out over holidays, and she - well, she educated them by taking them into Muggle London, showing the the things science could do. It might not have been, but it was a kind of magic.

Their friendship worked.

That weekend, following her first (and hopefully, _only_ ) tutoring session with James Potter, saw Hermione in that appropriated classroom, dutifully copying out a hand-drawn transmutation circle in her notebook with chalk on the classroom floor. In the center of the circle was a dead flower, picked by Regulus to give to Calypso Fawcett for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. When she turned him down, Hermione took the flower.

(Waste not.)

Regulus leaned against a desk that they had pushed up against a far wall, arms and legs crossed. Barty was seated cross-legged on top, next to him. Both were eyeing Hermione.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" drawled Regulus.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, a glare to her brown eyes. Luckily, _those_ hadn't changed. She snapped her notebook, held open in one hand, shut with a loud _snap_. "Yes," she replied snippily.

"Only," continued Regulus, "You said it would work the last time, and it didn't."

"And the one before that," added Barty helpfully. He had a sugar quill sticking out of the corner of his mouth, sucking on it hard.

"I made some adjustments on my calculations," replied Hermione hotly.

"Uh huh," said Regulus.

Hermione squared her shoulders and planted her hands on her hips. "No one _asked_ you to be here, Black." She made a waving motion with her hand. "Shoo. Begone."

"Nah," he said, leaning further back. "I'm looking forward to seeing you fail again."

"It's not _failure_ ," snarled Hermione, "It's a _learning experience_."

Barty didn't even try stifling his snickers.

Grumbling to herself, Hermione turned her back on her two friends. She carefully looked over the chalk circle on the floor. It was small, no bigger than a dinner plate. The flower was on the inside of the circle, and there was another circle outside it, with a square between the two layers. In the gaps between the outer circle and the square were numerology markings - equations and symbols of power - that provided the basic molecular structure of the flower and its components.

She took a deep breath, and knelt in front of the transmutation circle. She used to be able to do tiny little parlour tricks like bringing flowers and small insects back to life when she was older, but she never got further in her research for more. This test - her sixth that first month back at Hogwarts - would determine if her magic was finally starting to settle.

From her understanding, most transmutation circles required to be planned out in advance. Hermione wanted to understand the _theory_ behind it first and then - ideally - once she had that down, she could all on transmutation circles without pre-planning or marking them out in chalk. But that would come later.

Clapping her hands together until her palms touched, Hermione centered herself - pushing her annoyance at her friends away, at James Potter and tutoring him, pushing away her fears of failing again - and then slammed her hands flat on either side of the circle.

Her eyes opened and blazed with power.

The circle glowed white, and the wilted flower in the middle of the circle reversed from brown, brittle petals to blushing pink; its dull, grey stem turned healthy green and the sickly, cloying scent of rotting plants was replaced with the fresh scent of roses.

 _It worked_ , she thought breathlessly.

"Sweet Merlin!" gasped Barty, pushing up off the desk and kneeling next to her. Regulus carefully approached and, at her nod, reached into the circle and plucked the freshly-plucked flower from within, holding it and twirling it between his fingers.

He eyed it curiously for several moments, and then, turned to Hermione. He gave the most beautiful and sincere smile she had ever seen on him, and said, "Congratulations, Hermione."

"You know what this means, don't you?" said an eager Barty.

Hermione shook her head. "No, what?"

"You're going to change the world," he replied, beaming at her. She was painfully aware that once, he wore a similar expression when talking about his devotion to the Dark Lord. "And we're going to be right beside you."

Swallowing thickly, and pushing past the dangers that her memories were flinging at her, Hermione grinned. "Well, that's only if Potter doesn't want me tutoring anymore. Because I'm pretty sure if we have another tutoring session, it might just kill me."

"From what you said," began Regulus, standing up, still holding the flower. "It'll be unlikely."

"Well, he _is_ a glutton for punishment," argued Barty, as Hermione brought her wand out and cast _scourgify_ to erase the chalk. "After all, he's only confessed his love to Hermione's sister how many times now?"

With the chalk vanished, Hermione sat back on her heels and wiped her hands on her skirt. Regulus made a face at the action, but Hermione ignored it and said, "Well… in that case, he might want to take the punishment of dealing with me. But I'm not Lily - it'll be a waste of time. Honestly, he should just _ask her_ for help."

"He wouldn't be able to get through a full sentence without an 'I love you,' somewhere," laughed Barty.

Hermione's lips twitched. "Too right."

Standing, she collected her book bag and joined the other two, leaving the classroom. Transmutation always made her hungry. "Kitchens?"

"Sure," agreed Barty happily for them both. He bounced beside her with nervous, vibrant energy. "Say, do you think you can show me your notes? I want to give that a try."

"No," replied Hermione at once, thinking of the incredibe damage Barty could potentially cause with knowledge of transmutation circles. She amended herself when she saw the crestfallen look on his face, "Not until you have your nonverbal spells down."

He pouted but nodded.

Regulus, on Hermione's other side, was strolling along with a hand in his pocket and the other, thoughtfully twirling the flower around and around. "Do you think I could try again with Calypso?"

"Not with the same flower," replied Hermione, "It would look tacky."

Regulus scoffed. "She'd never know."

The look Hermione sent back was scathing. " _Of course_ women will know-"

A large curtain of icy water crashed over Hermione, raining heavily down on her from above, in the middle of a nondescript hallway. Regulus and Barty immediately leaped sideways to avoid the water, and had cast an umbrella charm to keep the water from splashing up on them. Hermione, however, was _drenched_.

She stood shock still, her shoulders up and her arms held away from her body, like a frozen statue as her brown hair heavily hung forward and her soaked Ravenclaw jumper and skirt clung to her body and thighs.

There was loud laughter in front of her, and she shakily pushed her lanky wet hair out from her eyes to stare at James and Sirius, who were supporting each other as they laughed, so hard they were nearly on the floor.

"L-Like I s-said, P-Padfoot!" hiccuped James, wheezing. "W-W-Wet nundu!"

Fourteen year old Hermione Evans felt like crying, standing there soaked while Barty began shouting something at the two in her defense and Regulus silently began casting warming charms - although that was going to fluff her hair up something terrible.

Four years. She had lasted four years without James Potter knowing who she was, without becoming a victim of his pranks. She wasn't even a blip on the Marauders radar.

Her impressive mind began to race. She had to fix this. And soon. Everything relied on her being invisible and unimportant. People took notice of who James Potter pranked. Whom he spoke to.

This wouldn't do.

At all.

* * *

 **Note** : Yes, I'm heavily influenced by _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ for the transmutation circles.


	3. Take Control of Your Life

Yesterday is Today (everything is connected)  
THREE

* * *

 **Dirk:** You've been making choices out of desperation for too long. Take control of your life, Todd. The minute you do, interesting things will happen.  
\- Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, "Horizons," 1x01 (2016)

* * *

Petunia spent all summer talking up Cokeworth Secondary, telling Lily how excited she was that the two Evans sisters would finally be at the same school again, and how when Hermione joined in a few short years, they would rule the school. Petunia had a grand idea of using her gossiping skills and charm to sweet-talk the staff; Lily's temper and idealism would detract any naysayers to the Evanses plans; and Hermione's shrewd attitude and manipulations would ensure those that _did_ protest against the girls would come to swift, school-level ends.

It would be _glorious_ , was Petunia's thoughts, her eyes star-riddled.

Then Lily's Hogwarts letter arrived.

And things were never quite the same, again.

* * *

In Petunia's mind - what Lily could do was… interesting. There was a potential there, for other… _stuff_. She supposed, anyway (she wasn't fully sold on the 'magic' thing of it, truthfully. It was all so… flamboyant. Not refined, not at all). Petunia didn't so much mind magic the way she minded Severus Snape.

The strange, long-haired boy from Spinner's End, with his used clothing and dismissive attitude against her ( _her!_ Petunia seethed), solidified her dislike. Then he went and told Lily she could and should perform magic out in _public_? _Who does that_?

Lily was enchanted, the idiot. Someone just like her!

 _Hermione could do magic, too_ , Petunia thought, although unlike Lily who thought it was neat to animate flowers, Hermione kept her magic - or superhero abilities, again, Petunia wasn't sold on the idea - to a strict minimum of _usefulness_. Like, cleaning their rooms. And putting the dishes away. And hiding the evidence of them gorging on junk food before dinner when their parents went out shopping, only to innocently say, in a very clean living room, "No, Mum, Da, we didn't even _think_ about opening the snack drawer!"

Petunia didn't like the idea of Lily going away - they were supposed to _stick together_! Go to the same school, meet boys, fall in love, get married and live near each other and start having kids at the same time so they grew up together. Petunia had it all planned out; now Lily had to go and deviate from that plan? And if _she_ got an invite to that Hogwarts school, so would Hermione.

Where did that leave her?

Alone, that's where.

So she wrote the Headmaster, Dumbledore, and asked to attend.

That stupid Snape boy - and _Lily_ \- how _could she?_ \- snuck into her room and read the man's reply, telling her that Hogwarts was for magicals, not _muggles_ like her.

The rift that began to grow. It splintered on September first when Petunia and Hermione said goodbye to Lily in London; the young girl couldn't stop saying "Severus told me" and "Severus said that". When did that odious boy take Petunia's place as trusted, reliable, informative older sister? When had he stolen her best friend from her?

"You're a freak," slipped out that morning, in front of a solid, stone column at King's Cross.

Hurt blossomed in Lily's green eyes, and she protested, "I'm not a freak. That's a horrible thing to say!"

Even Hermione, standing at Petunia's side while their parents conversed a short distance away to give the girls' some last time together, turned judgmental eyes on her.

Hurt blossomed in Petunia, too, though, and she snapped, "But that's where you're going. A special school for freaks."

Their relationship - the one that had once been so close between the three sisters - splintered. It would never heal.

* * *

 _Four years_ , seethed Hermione, stabbing her roast beef with her fork. _Four years I managed to keep away from the Marauders, minding my own business as the timeline managed itself_.

At her side, Barty had bypassed dinner entirely and was scouring the table for desserts - particularly sugary tarts, which were by far Hermione's favourite - and shoving them at her. The tart plates kept hitting and butting up against her dinner plate, but Hermione was so cheerfully stuck in her own head, she barely noticed. (Or it was likely she didn't see - once the drying charm was cast, her hair fluffed up, and resembled a poodle. It wasn't attractive, but it did mean that she had a wickedly fashionable perm for the 70s.)

"Honestly, who does he think he is?" Barty muttered lowly at her side, the other Ravenclaws giving them a very wide berth. "Merlin - I swear - the next time he even _thinks_ about pointing his wand for a prank at you, I'm gonna… I'm gonna… scour his mouth out with a cleaning charm!"

"What a wonderful idea, Crouch," praised a feminine voice as the empty space on the bench next to Hermione was taken by a familiar Gryffindor uniform. "I think I'll use that on Potter, myself."

Hermione glanced up and said, pointedly, "I'm over it," meeting her sister's vibrant emerald eyes.

"I'm not," retorted Lily, her Midlands accent flattening in her annoyance, as she held Hermione's brown eyes.

Hermione sighed. "It's not worth it, Lily. He pranks a lot of people."

"'A lot of people' aren't my sister," replied the redhead, and a staring match commenced.

Barty, bored now, began eating one of Hermione's tarts.

"Why did he even target you?" asked Lily finally, glancing away and absently looking across the hall and over the Hufflepuff table back towards Gryffindor. There, at the table, James Potter was valiantly trying to look cool although his eyes kept darting over to her, seated at the Ravenclaw table. His friends were trying to distract him, but it was obvious he was curious about her change of dinner seat.

Hermione shrugged.

Barty snorted, so Lily turned to him, causing Hermione to sigh. Lily and Barty did not get along. Regulus couldn't stand her, but his Slytherin friendship with Snape meant that he tolerated Lily for the older Slytherin's sake (which Hermione saw ending shortly, once this year was done). Barty, however, found Lily particularly idealistic which grated on him; Lily, in return, found Barty a bit too… maniacal for her tastes (Hermione had to admit that Barty did come off a bit strong).

Overall, Lily didn't like Hermione's friends, and Hermione didn't like hers. Sort of, anyway - Hermione preferred to be far, far away from Lily's friends - beyond Snape, that included Marlene McKinnon and Mary MacDonald in Gryffindor with her.

So when Lily and Barty began to politely speak, Hermione quickly looked up at the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall to see if the world was ending in fire and brimstone.

"Hermione's tutoring him in Arithmancy," answered Barty, absently licking flaky pastry stuck to his finger.

"How's that a cause for a prank?" asked Lily, in confusion. She turned back to her sister. "He's never targeted you before. I would've noticed."

Hermione shifted uneasily on the bench. "I may have… erm… been a bit rude."

Barty snorted again and Hermione shot him a nasty look, wondering, _maybe a trip to Madam Pomfrey to clear your sinuses is imminent, my friend…_

"Rude?" Lily's eyes were wide. " _You?_ Hermy, love, you're a sweetheart."

Hermione blanched and neatly sidestepped the point Lily was making. "God, don't call me that, Lily. Ugh. That's worse than Mia, honestly. I have a perfectly good name, can we just use that?"

"Hermy!" chortled Barty beside her.

Scowling, Hermione elbowed him in the side and he wheezed painfully, leaning over the table and placing his head on a free spot of wood. "Bad Barty. _No._ "

Lily's face was a picture of innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about, 'Mione." The redhead shook her head. "Anyway - so you were a bit rude during a tutoring session. It's Potter - I lose my temper on him on a regular basis. He doesn't prank _me_."

Hermione and Barty stared at Lily until she blushed, the flush in her cheeks painfully clashing with her hair. She then looked away, fiddling with a loose thread on her Gryffindor jumper. "Ah, yes - erm, right. Never mind."

"At least you're aware," muttered Hermione under her breath. She cleared her throat and spoke louder. "Look, Lily - honestly? It's fine. It was a stupid prank but it meant nothing. I'm not going to tutor Potter anymore in Arithmancy; I only did it because Pythas asked me to, and now I can honestly go back and say that we won't work well together."

"Is he going to penalize you, though?" asked Lily with wide eyes. The thought of not obeying a professor was rancid to her, and her palms began to sweat with nerves.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Penalize me against taking my NEWT in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes next year? Please. It doesn't just look good on my transcripts, you know - it makes Pythas and Janulus look great as educators. They won't take that away."

"Well. If you say so."

"I do," replied Hermione evenly, much of her temper cooled. Being on Potter's radar was definitely not good - because if _he_ noticed her, so did Sirius, Remus, and Peter - and it meant that Hermione's plan of being rather invisible from those she knew Before was in jeopardy. She didn't want Dumbledore looking too closely at her; she didn't want to be brought in to her sister's circle. Hermione was quite happy where she was, thank you very much.

(And if she conveniently had no idea where she was, and where she was going - well, she could lie to herself, too.)

Lily hummed noncommittally, playing with a fork on the table. "Alright then. Anyway - I got a letter from Mum and Da, and they mentioned you hadn't written. So. Write them. Or something - you've always been kind of bad about that. I'm sending a letter tomorrow night if you want to send something along with Jackie O."

Hermione shook her head at the stupid name Lily gave her owl - whose ruffled head feathers made it look like it was wearing a fashionable Jackie O Kennedy cap - when their parents finally allowed her a pet. "You and your owl, I swear. Yeah, I'll have something. Thanks for stopping by, Lils."

Lily grinned widely at the use of the childhood nickname that Hermione and Petunia used for her and leaned over to tightly hug her sister, who predictably whined and squirmed. "Love you," Lily murmured against Hermione's poofy dark auburn curls.

Hermione sighed, stilled, and whispered, "Love you, too," back to her sister, who radiated contentment.

Lily then let go and wriggled her fingers in a goodbye wave, nodding her goodbye to Barty, who stared at her while stuffing his mouth with another pastry; she then walked around the Hufflepuff table to sit with her friends at Gryffindor, completely ignoring Potter who leaned across the table, running a hand through his hair and make it more windswept as he tried to speak with her.

And, by the time dinner was over, Lily had scoured Potter's mouth with a cleaning charm.

It made Hermione's night.

* * *

Barty was never going to understand transmutation, Hermione decided closer to Halloween, as she watched him attempt to cast nonverbally, his face growing red in frustration.

They were in her practice classroom, with Hermione taking a break from her transmutation circles to help her best friend work his way through the first year curriculum nonverbally. Regulus was at Quidditch practice, leaving Hermione to give Barty her undivided attention - which he liked.

But his feather failed to float off the desk in front of him.

He let out an explosive shout and flung his wand from his hand. It hit the far wall and then skittered back across the flagstone floor where it rolled to a rest. Hermione watched silently.

"I'm never going to get it!" snapped Barty, breathing heavily.

Hermione, arms crossed, shook her head. "Not with that attitude," she replied, her voice soft. Getting angry at Barty or calling him out often led to his magic snapping back - it made him feel like he was at home.

"Just because you're a magical prodigy doesn't mean the rest of us are!" snapped Barty, whirling around to face his friend. "Just admit I'm useless, will you?"

Hermione dropped her arms. "You're _not_ useless. At all. And I don't want to hear you call yourself that ever again. I'm just lucky that I _get_ magic, Barty. That's why I can cast nonverbally." _And because I'm damn old compared to everyone else here, and went through this already, but… well… I'm not going to tell anyone that_.

"Then why aren't I getting it, Hermione?" he whined, staring at the floor. "It's a stupid _wingardium leviosa_."

Hermione stepped forward and, coming to Barty's side, gave him an awkwardly-angled hug. His tense frame softened and he reached up to lay a hand overtop her arm, stretched across his chest. "Remember that feeling when you said the spell back in first year? How you visualized the feather floating? The magic inside you swirling about and eager to do what you wanted?"

Barty breathed deeply. The fourteen-year-old, all gangly arms and legs, nodded and let go of Hermione's arm with his right hand to summon his wand back - that, he could do. His wand slapped into his waiting palm, and with Hermione still attached to his side, he felt himself calm.

"I'll try," he muttered.

Hermione chuckled into his shoulder - where she barely reached. "Do or do not, Barty - there is no try."

He frowned. "Really? That's terrible advice. Else your own 'learning experiences' would be classed as 'do nots.'"

"Shut up, I never said it was a perfect quote," replied Hermione, grinning into the shoulder. _Sorry, Yoda. We're a few years too early and already you're being taken to task._

"Whatever," muttered Barty, and then, with his eyes closed, he pointed his wand at the feather, and let his wrist roll in the familiar motion as he thought, _wingardium leviosa_. He felt his magic swirl down his arm and into his wand, and in his mind, he saw exactly what he wanted: his feather floating gently up and hovering in the air in front of him.

"Open your eyes, Barty."

He did, and there, exactly how he imagined it, was his feather floating. He turned and grinned at Hermione, who beamed back up at him.

He let the magic dissipate, and swept his friend into a hug, swinging her around in his glee. _He did it!_ He thought, a grin stretching across his face. _Because Hermione believed in him!_

"One spell down, about three hundred to go!" he crowed.

Hermione laughed.

Later, when they took a break, Barty turned to her and asked, "Be honest. Do you think I'll ever be able to do transmutations like you?"

Hermione frowned, looking down at her hands. She sat on top of the desk Barty had used when she cracked her transmutation circle, her legs swinging off and heels hitting the wooden frame, while Barty sat next to her, cross-legged.

"Probably not," she admitted. "Your moods jump too much. Transmutation needs to be carefully thought out in the moment of preparation and casting. You're brilliant, Barty, and can understand the theory, but the practice might be too much for you. However - nonverbal casting as a fourth year when we only learn about it in sixth? That's definitely going to be your strength."

Barty ducked his head shyly, preening under the compliment even if she was being realistic.

They sat together a bit longer before Hermione sighed and slipped off the desk. "Anyway, I was going to go to the library."

Barty nodded. "I'll see you back in the common room. Don't be out too late."

"Worried I'll cost us points?" she grinned, bending to scoop up her school bag and loop it over her shoulder.

"No," said Barty, rolling his eyes, unfolding his legs and standing as well. "I know you don't get caught. I just mean with Potter and his friends out roaming. Be careful."

Hermione nodded, said her goodbyes, and headed for the library. She wanted some time to go over her transmutation notes and maybe check out a book or two. Upon reaching the library, she dumped her bag on her usual seat, the tiny alcove hidden nook she claimed as hers, and then went in search of her books. Both were Alchemical in nature, one written by Flamel himself, but Hermione wasn't too interested in the _content_ \- she was interested in what wasn't said.

Her transmutation circles were coming quicker - it wasn't difficult for her to plan the circles out in advance anymore - but rather, the difficulty lay in the objects she wanted to transmute. She needed to understand their molecular structure, and she wanted to know _why_ when such a thing like magic existed.

She was halfway through taking notes on one book when a body slammed into the chair opposite her. She startled, and her eyes darted up, even as a line of smeared ink went across her page.

" _Potter?"_

James Potter stared back, his lips pressed in a thin line across his face. There was something hard in the fifteen-year-old's expression that Hermione hadn't quite expected to see; and worse, it reminded her of a very serious Harry, about to say something she wouldn't be excited to hear, at all. It reminded her of the night of their OWLs, when he was sure Sirius was being tortured by Voldemort.

"Evans," the teen replied, his voice flat.

Hermione made a show of looking around the library in confusion. "There are other free tables, Potter. What are you doing at mine?"

James carefully folded his hands on top of the desk, but she could see that his wand was out and resting along the wood grain. He then leaned forward, just the tiniest bit, and his nose twitched - once. There was a struggle, and eventually, he said, through gritted teeth, "We had an Arithmancy test just this week. I got it back today."

Hermione felt wariness creep up her spine. She leaned back a bit in her seat. "Oh?"

He nodded, misery etched into his face for a moment. "I failed the test. And Pythas owled my mother my results. She sent a Howler to me this morning."

Hermione thought back to breakfast - she had heard of some commotion over at the Gryffindor table, but in all honesty, she was too busy rereading her notes and doing some light reading in an advanced Ancient Runes book she coerced - erm, _nicely asked_ \- Professor Janulus to lend her. She hadn't been paying attention.

"What does this have to do with me?" Hermione asked pointedly.

The black-haired teen sighed heavily and then reached up with his wand-free hand and ran it through his hair. Hermione tensed. "I may have told my mum that I was still taking tutoring sessions and she learned I lied about it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed into slits. " _Annnnnd_?"

James squirmed in his seat. "Annnnd," he mimicked the drawn-out word, although with much less hostility that she emphasized, "I would really like to take up our tutoring sessions, again."

When that failed to move her, he gave a small, wobbly smile. "Honestly. I swear. Marauder's honour."

Hermione snorted. _Marauder's honour, my arse. There's a reason why "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," was their password_. _Still…_

"Every Friday, seven on the dot," said Hermione suddenly, startling James Potter. "And you need to come prepared - like, read the chapter ahead, sort of thing. _And_ ," she emphasized, " _No_ asking about my sister. These two hours are for your academics and school alone."

James narrowed his eyes back. "So you're saying that outside of the two hours I can ask about Lily?"

Hermione groaned.

* * *

Their next tutoring session was a bit of a mess.

James Potter came prepared - he had read that upcoming week's chapter, even taken notes in the margin of the text - but… well…

Hermione stared at the chicken scrawl - nothing worse than Harry's, honestly, but maybe it was a Potter thing? - and tried to make sense of the leaps in logic James took to get to the bottom of some of the answers in the text.

"Potter-" began Hermione, staring at the paper, and then cut herself off. She cleared her throat and tried again. "James. How did you pass the last two years in Arithmancy at all?"

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair on the two back legs. "Third year wasn't too bad. And then in fourth, Padfoot - Sirius - mostly helped."

"I, uh, I just," Hermione trailed off. "Do… do you even _know_ what Arithmancy is used for?"

He shrugged.

"Potter - James - it's just math," stuttered Hermione, astounded by his lack of care. "I mean, some people use Arithmancy for Divination because it's probability and statistics, but you can use it for a lot of other things."

"Like what?" he asked, but sounded bored. He wasn't even looking at her - he was looking at the ceiling! Hermione stared in incomprehension, disbelief bubbling in her stomach.

"I…" she floundered, physically looking around like an answer would come to her. Nothing came to mind; she was in the library, on a Friday night, with James Potter, trying to get him to understand the value of math. It was clear he'd rather be anywhere but with her - probably thinking about the upcoming Quidditch match Gryffindor had with Ravenclaw -

 _Eureka!_ Thought Hermione, grinning. _Quidditch!_

"Okay, look," said Hermione, leaning forward and grabbing her quill and a spare piece of parchment. "Arithmancy is in… like, everything. Every spell, every piece of magic, everything we do, can be broken down to the smallest bit of mathematical equation."

He was looking at her now, although from the bottom of his lenses, as they slipped down his nose. He was still leaning back in the chair.

"Spells are magical, they really are," continued Hermione, enthusiastically as she sketched things on the paper, "But they're also scientific. We can understand how a spell works because we break it down into wand movements and nonverbal commands; then, verbal commands as cues and phrases. Those movements and phrases have _meaning_ , have weight. Arithmancy calculates that weight and helps us understand the strength of a spell, how it would mingle when cast against another, distance until it hits something, things like that."

She looked up. "Have you ever wondered what would happen if you cast _stupefy_ and it never hit anything? Would it just go on and on and on and on forever until it did?"

Curiosity was in James' eyes, and he let the chair fall on all four legs. "Not really, no…"

"What about Quidditch?" pressed Hermione, finishing her equations. "Do you not think it's strange that Quidditch players just fly around and hope for the best? What if you didn't have the plans you had? Do those plans change your teams' abilities and strengths on the pitch, leading to better results?"

He was leaning forward. "Plans do help - but it's not easy keeping to them when there are so many variables when you're playing and need to make split-second decisions."

"Of course," agreed Hermione, a small smile curling her lips upward. She slid the paper towards him. "But say - if you broke every player down into a variable in an equation - and you had a goal of how many points you wanted to score or how long you wanted the game to be played before your Seeker caught the Snitch - if you broke it into an equation, an _Arithmancy_ equation, what do you think would happen?"

The teen's hazel eyes glanced down at the paper, and he looked over the markings Hermione had quickly scribbled with her quill. She even had a legend on the side:

a = Potter  
b = Black  
c & d = Prewitt

And so forth, for the other players on the Gryffindor team; she had done so for the Ravenclaw team as well, and written in an equation where the Gryffindor team (all a through g for the seven players; and then u through z were Ravenclaw), and then substituted letters for the snitch, the quaffle, and the bludgers; wind speed; temperature; playing conditions based on the players' eating breakfast or not, and a end-score of 420 for Gryffindor, which would put them comfortably ahead for the Quidditch Cup.

James didn't quite understand it, but…

"You'd only have to play for approximately two hours before Blythe Parkin catches the Snitch," explained Hermione, tapping a portion of the long-stringed equation. "To combat Ravenclaw - who overthinks its plays - you just need to get into their heads; be confident; psyche them out in plays with evasive maneouvers. Keep them busy."

James looked up from the parchment, eyes narrowed. "Arithmancy can do something like this?"

Hermione gave a shrug, bringing her hand back close to her body and then went to inspect the nails, as nonchalantly as possible. "And more."

James hummed, and took the parchment, tucking it into his bag. "We'll see."

Hermione took the words graciously and then began a review of the major equations learned back in the third year to test Potter's memory and understanding of the theory. The two hours passed quickly, and they went their separate ways.

* * *

A week later, Gryffindor smashed Ravenclaw with 420 - 60 in their favour, with Parkins catching the Snitch two hours and three minutes into the game.

And Hermione, despite her house's terrible loss, stood in the stands with her groaning blue-and-bronze housemates around her and smiled.

* * *

 **Note** : Blythe Parkins is a Seeker for the English National Team, and apparently is born sometime before 1977. So. On the Gryffindor Quidditch team in 1975.


	4. Choose the Path

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

IV

* * *

 **John Rittenhouse** : My father says peasants are like the hands of a clock, round and round they go.

 **Lucy Preston** : What does that mean?

 **John** : A peasant is no more capable of choosing his own path than the hands of a clock.

 **Lucy** : Who chooses the path for them?

 **John** : The clockmaker, of course.

\- Timeless, 01x10, "The Capture of Benedict Arnold"

* * *

"Now, don't be afraid," cautioned Lily, directing Hermione through the throng of Hogwarts students and their parents seeing their children off for the school year. Hermione indulgently allowed Lily to maneuver her away from certain students and between school trunks on trolleys, unaware that Hermione had far more experience of the pre-Hogwarts rush than she did.

"I'm not afraid," said Hermione in response, her voice strong and confident.

"Good," her elder sister grinned. They shared a warm glance between two siblings, and then her green eyes had strayed. "Oh, look, there's Sev!"

Hermione swallowed thickly. Severus Snape remained a sore point for her; her knowledge of the bitter man he would become was stymied by the information she had on all that he did and the life he gave up to be a spy. Even Snape at twelve was snarky and had a mean streak that rivaled Petunia's. However, Hermione would never forgive him for his thoughtless comment of "I see no difference."

Even if it was yet to happen.

Or wouldn't happen - she shook her head. Time travel and verb tenses were hellish.

Hermione allowed Lily to shuffle her onto the train and into a compartment that she and Severus had commandeered for the trip. Hermione eased onto the plush red of the seat, and curiously looked through the window to the sea of students as they finished their goodbyes and eagerly found their friends. An explosion further down the train and loud laughter made Hermione's lips twitch in remembrance of Fred and George, but Severus, sitting across from her, groaned and slouched down the seat.

She glanced at him and then Lily, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Lily scowled. "It's that stupid James Potter and Sirius Black."

"Your housemates?" asked Hermione, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, troublemakers, the lot of them!" the redhead huffed. "They tease and bully _everyone_! And absolutely hate the Slytherins."

Hermione turned to Severus, whose scowl was reaching his future self's epic proportions. "Like you, Severus?" she inquired innocently.

He slouched further, two blots of red high on his pale cheeks.

"You'll want to stay out of their way, Hermione," lectured Lily. "They don't prank me as badly as the others, but it's a free-for-all with those boys. Honestly! I don't know why Remus goes along with it."

 _Because he's afraid they'll abandon him_ , answered Hermione mentally, turning away from Lily as she and Severus began discussing the upcoming school year and their classes, including which electives they would choose for their third year.

Hermione tuned it out. She accepted that she was somehow stuck in the past; that somehow, she had been reborn into the Evans family. Over the years, once she had pushed past the horrible denial that something like this could happen to her, she began to come to terms with her situation and even grew to love her new family. Leo and Rose had far more time for their daughters than Hermione's own original birth parents Richard and Miranda had; Leo and Rose were happy with whatever their children decided, whether it was Petunia excelling in home economics or Lily and Hermione being witches.

Of course, there was a part of Hermione that felt morally responsible for stopping Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but… _I've already done that_ , she would remind herself. She would help here or there, but this Hermione, her in the now, only wanted to continue her research, keep her head down for as long as possible, and potentially clean house once 1981 drew to a close.

If her research could potentially help the Order of the Phoenix or stop Death Eaters, then - it was a coincidence, really (and if that meant ignoring the morality of letting her sister die… well, she was working on it - but what 'it' was, was up in the air. Would she save Lily? Would she raise Harry as her own? Hermione didn't know; what if she changed things too much? Or worse - _what if nothing changed at all_?).

But she didn't want to involve herself further until necessary. Lily, she interacted with because she was her sister; and Severus was Lily's friend ( _for now,_ she reminded herself, already mentally counting down to her sister's OWLs). If she could avoid those she knew and interacted with in the future - like Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, the Weasleys, or other Order members - then she would be happy. But that meant no Gryffindor.

It would mean not watching Lily and James eventually fall in love; it would mean never helping Remus after a terrible full moon, bringing him chocolate; it would mean never sitting next to a moody, bitter Sirius as his family continued to tear him down. It meant no Weasley jumpers at Christmas, no war stories from Alastor Moody and no pig snouts from Tonks.

It would be lonely.

 _No different than before_ , Hermione thought to herself. _I managed for years before Hogwarts in my past life, and I managed years before here too._

Eventually, Severus ended up with some Slytherin friends and Lily had a chinwag with the other Gryffindor girls in her dorm, the names only recognizable to Hermione due to their membership to the Order of the Phoenix and their memorable, gruesome deaths.

Hermione was alone, and truthfully - that was how she liked it.

* * *

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted, and Hermione Granger, now Hermione Evans, joined the politely applauding table. Her nondescript Hogwarts tie changed to reflect the Ravenclaw colours of blue and bronze, and she slid demurely onto the bench somewhere in the middle of the table.

Around her, her year mates and housemates were engrossed in the Sorting, or clandestinely reading large books on their laps.

 _Yes_ , thought Hermione looking around, _I'm going to disappear perfectly._

* * *

Hermione's explanation of arithmancy to be used alongside practical applications like Quidditch revitalized James Potter, and soon, he became a Friday night fixture at her tiny table in the library. The side effects of his new-found interest in the field of math were both positive and negative: positive because Hermione had the opportunity to see someone else begin to _enjoy_ math and find a use for it, and negative because it meant she was no longer invisible.

The first few weeks of their study sessions were peaceful: Hermione would coax James through the third-year material, quizzing him on the foundations of calculus and probability statistics, and then bring in the arithmetic formulas from their Hogwarts classes. The additional non-magical material of higher maths provided James with a stronger grasp of the material, and soon they were on the fourth year revision material.

That's when Sirius joined them.

At fifteen, Sirius was _not_ the same man Hermione came to know in the future. That Sirius was broody, prone to explode in a terrible temper at the drop of a wrong word or condescending tone; his eye would flash and his bark was just as terrible as his bite. That man was stifled energy looking for an outlet.

 _This_ Sirius was loud, charismatic, eager to please, but also easily bored and unknowingly cruel. His first night, after sniffing them out - almost literally, as with the increased use of their nicknames, Hermione was sure they had recently become animagi - he spent almost their entire two hours wheedling James to join him outside for an illegal broom race, or planting dungbombs in the dungeons, or help him chat up a sixth-year Hufflepuff, or, or, or.

Hermione felt her annoyance at the handsome teen grow the longer he remained hovering over James's shoulders. It reached a peak by the time he flung himself in the only other free chair at her table, in between the two of them.

"C'mon, Jimmie-boy," whined Sirius, leaning forward, eyes scanning the revised quiz Hermione mocked up for James, "Let's go, yeah? Moony and Wormtail are waiting for us. We've got that thing - the _you-know-what_ ," he dropped his voice to a conspiratory whisper, which missed the mark with Hermione sitting right there, able to hear every word, "so we can go to the _you-know-where_. And then maybe finish up with a trip to the kitchens. Whaddya say, mate?"

James looked absolutely torn. His hazel eyes kept glancing at Sirius, who was intently focused on his best friend's face, like a dog staring down its prey, while James quickly slid them to Hermione. For her part, Hermione thought she absolutely looked unaffected, calmly sitting there without a care if Potter went off to do some Marauder shenanigans.

In reality, Hermione had a very red flush to her cheeks. Her dark whiskey coloured eyes were flashing a strange lighter hue that reminded James vaguely of Remus, but he knew that Hermione was no werewolf. The quill in her hand was almost vibrating with near intensity, and the fingers gripping it was a pale white from stress and tension.

Hermione Evans was one word away from a complete blowout, even if she didn't know it.

But, James knew it.

And from the wicked glint in Sirius's eyes, he knew it too. And was ready to give the brunette that extra push.

Sirius's grey eyes turned to Hermione then, and James watched in horrified fascination, like a miss-cast spell decimating an entire class and turning it into a tragedy. With a flick up and down what he could see of the fourteen-year-old's body sitting at the table, Sirius was dismissive and turned back to James, saying, "If you needed help in Arithmancy, mate, you just had to ask. You don't need this walking library to help you. Who'd want to spend their Fridays here, anyway? She's not much to look at." He paused and leered at Hermione. " _Yet_ , anyway."

" _Excuse me_?" Hermione's voice was frosty.

"You heard me, sweetheart," replied Sirius. "You're just a tiny thing, aren't you? Full of-" he paused and looked up. " _Hair_."

Hermione stared at Sirius in complete and utter disbelief - in fact, it was like the entire world _paused_ for that moment, and at that moment, Hermione was able to put to words everything she was contemplating, debating.

There was no other reason for what she did next. Other than Sirius, whom she knew well and dearly, had always been able to push her buttons with an exact precision that rivaled Ron at his cruelest. But it was then, with his flippant comment, fully intended to see what Hermione was capable of, that made Hermione think: _fuck the timeline_.

And then she drew back her left hand, free of her quill, and slammed directly into Sirius's cheek, socking him so hard that he collapsed in surprise against the table, catching it with the flat of his palms, which made a loud _smack_.

The library, which was quiet but had a present, low hum of conversation, disappeared like someone had cast _Silencio_ over the entire area. Hermione could feel the weight of stares on her - she was no longer invisible.

Sirius moaned against the table, sliding down against it until his back was once more against his seat. A hand was pressed to his jaw, and he stared at Hermione with wide grey eyes. James, with wide eyes of his own, was hovering over Sirius and glancing back and forth between his best friend and his tutor.

Hermione scowled deeply at the teen, and snapped, "' _Though she be but little, she is fierce_ '!" With that said, she wandlessly summoned her parchment and quills with a wave of her hand - ignoring that such a feat by a fourteen year made both Sirius and James's eyebrows shoot upwards - then shove everything in her bag, stomping out of the library, her sanctum, now and forever lost due to her tutoring of James Potter.

She _knew_ it had been a mistake!

* * *

"Did she -," started Sirius, rubbing his hand along his jaw, which was throbbing in time to his heartbeat, "Did she just punch me in the face and then quote Shakespeare before flouncing away?"

James, eyes stuck on the retreating figure of his crush's sister, nodded absently. "Yeah, Padfoot, I think she did."

Sirius turned to James and announced, "I think I'm in love."

Horrified, James couldn't think of a reply.

* * *

The path to the Room of Requirement was clear, and Hermione took full advantage to stomp her Mary Janes hard on the stone, to vent some of her anger.

 _How dare he? Who does he think he is?_ She spat angrily in her mind, feeling her magic swell and spark along her fingertips in response. _A tiny thing full of hair, said he. I'll show him tiny, alright!_

She had been so careful; so sure of her new life and being invisible that she would never draw the eye of the Marauders. Even after she began tutoring James Potter, his friends had let her be - minus that terribly annoying prank James and Sirius did after the first disastrous tutoring session - and Hermione had breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't changing any timelines (maybe James needed Arithmancy help in the previous timeline?), she wasn't upsetting any relationship dynamics beyond the ones she was already involved in (her professors, her new family, Barty, and Regulus), and for the most part, everything seemed to be on track to what was going to be a horrible guerilla civil war in just three years' time.

See? Perfect. Everything was going the way it should.

Hermione paced in front of the blank wall where the Room of Requirement's door would appear, and then, once it bled into existence, she dove for the handle and yanked it open, storming in without realizing the interior. It wasn't until she was several steps in that she recognized the location.

"You have _got_ to be _kidding_ me!"

Although it wasn't as doom and gloom as it used to be, the dark panelled walls and dark hardwood floor was familiar enough from spending most of her teen summers at Grimmauld Place. Harry had cleaned the ancestral Black home up as a project after the war during his Auror training, modernizing what he could and repainting anything else. Gone were the spiderwebs and house elf heads, as well as the creepy Black family portraits that hissed insults as you walked by.

While it would never be "light and airy," the changes Harry had made to Grimmauld place made it appear more Edwardian: heavy and dark wallpaper, dark panels, dark floors, crown moulding, and brilliant hanging chandeliers in many rooms, as well as an overabundance of fireplaces and - with Hermione's insistence - squishy armchairs.

Harry was in one of those squishy armchairs in the library, his ankle crossed over his knee and his fingers laced together under his chin as he watched her enter the room from behind his glasses. Except, Harry was not the forty-year-old man Hermione knew him as before she "died," as his hair wasn't salt-and-pepper, he wasn't wearing the fine tailored Head Auror robes, or carry himself with the ease of a man who knew himself and his place in the world, finally.

No, Hermione knew that the Room chose a Harry she could relate to best in her new existence, as the Harry in the armchair, sitting comfortably _like_ his older self in confidence, was the scrawny fourteen-year-old she knew who was troubled by his inclusion in the TriWizard Tournament. Despite his comfy seat, Hermione could see the foundation of _her_ Harry, in the hunch of his shoulders, in the wary gaze he cast her as she entered, the skinny arms and pointy elbows underneath oversized clothes.

"Harry," greeted Hermione through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to help, Hermione," the Room-provided Harry replied back, his tone open and friendly in comparison to hers.

"Help how?"

Harry shrugged. "You seem to be having trouble reconciling your place in this new timeline."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, now _that_ would give it away that you're not Harry; he never used the word 'reconcile' in his life."

Not-Harry grinned.

Hermione sighed and sat in the other armchair, perpendicular to his. "I shouldn't be here, Harry."

"Who's to say that?" he replied.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," began not-Harry, a distinct bossy tone to his voice that was more reminiscent of her than him, "How do you know that you were not meant to be here? How do you know that you were _never_ meant to be here?"

Hermione's frown deepened. "Are you suggesting that me growing up in our time was the wrong one?"

Harry grinned, impishly.

"Oh, come on!" moaned Hermione. "You come in here, you don't help me, tell me that the entire _belief_ of my existence in this time is wrong…! You-you claim to be a creation of my mind and yet you don't even provide me with a logical answer!"

"Hermione," said Harry in an extremely patronizing way, looking over the rim of his glasses at her, "Your subconscious mind knows that I would never do or say that. The Harry you knew was emotional and jumped to conclusions - I rarely followed things through _logically_."

Hermione stared at Harry. "You are the worst room construct, _ever_."

Not-Harry grinned, a wide, toothy smile.

They sat in silence while Hermione came down from her rage-induced response from hitting Sirius, until she sighed, long and deep, and snuggled deeper into the chair.

"Do you feel better now?" asked Harry, after minutes had gone by.

Hermione nodded, then asked, "What did you mean - about me not knowing whether I was always meant to be here or not?"

"Well, in time travel, like what we did in our third year," began Harry carefully, thinking his words out, "We existed in two places at once, and the things we did in the past reflected our knowledge of the present. For example, we never _saw_ Buckbeak get executed and because of that, we could change things accordingly to save him. I _thought_ I saw my father save us, but in reality, I saw _me_ save us that night with the Patronus."

"And?" groused Hermione.

"There were always two of us in the same physical space. And we didn't actually change anything that hadn't already been changed - like a loop," explained Harry patiently. "But now - you're not just _back in time_ , Hermione. You're not existing outside of those living their day-to-day. _You're actually in the past as part of it._ "

"Your point?"

"Hermione, you don't need to worry about changing things or keeping things the same," said Harry, a gentle tone to his voice. "You're here. You actually belong; you were reborn as part of the Evans family, and are now existing alongside my mother and aunt, as well as my father and his friends. You are not an interloper in this time, afraid that one touch will stop you from returning and creating a paradox. You are part of this time, woven into its very fabric."

He stopped, and then his green eyes pierced her. "But you knew this already."

Hermione turned away, slightly shame-faced.

"How do you figure?" she mumbled.

"Well, I don't exist, not really," replied Harry matter-of-factly. "I am and respond in a way that your subconscious tells you that I would react! So, really these thoughts were yours."

Hermione stared at Harry in stupefied horror.

"Oh, _Merlin_!" she breathed. "I'm arguing with myself about my place in this timeline if only to assuage my own guilt—it's literally me or me. I really am a know-it-all, aren't I?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"Hermione, if you want me to say 'stop being selfish and _do_ something with your life and the opportunities afforded,' I will tell you that," said Harry gently. "But if you also want me to say 'keep your head down, girl, don't you know the world will end?' I can do that too."

"That's me saying that to me, Harry," blinked Hermione. "Angel me versus Devil me."

"Is it?"

Hermione let out a sound of frustration. " _Uuuggghhhhh_."

"Hermione," sighed Harry, "Answer me this: are you happy?"

"Am I happy, what kind of question is that?" snapped Hermione. "Are we talking about a definitive state? An emotive _moment_ in time? Overall?"

"All, any, both."

Hermione frowned. "Then _no_ , of course not, Harry. No, I'm _not_ happy. I haven't been happy for some time. I haven't been happy at work before I died and ended up here; I wasn't happy with where my experiments were going. I wasn't happy with being _reborn into your mother's side of the family, you little toerag_ -"

"I get it," replied a slightly worried Harry. "You weren't happy. When _are_ you happy?"

Hermione snapped her mouth shut and honestly thought about the question. When was she happy? She was happy with she saw Barty successfully cast his spell nonverbally. She was happy when James _understood_ the point of Arithmancy. She was happy when she heard the satisfying sound Sirius' cheek made when her hand connected to it. She was even happy in the summer, spending time with Petunia and Lily.

She was… kind of happy in this time.

"Huh."

Hermione spied Harry's rather smug face, and then sighed, "Okay, but you're a figment of my imagination, so just telling me what I need to know to make myself feel justified seems a bit circular."

Harry's smile stretched into a genuine one. "Does it matter if it works?"

"If I change things…" she warned, slowly, "It could be worse."

"It could be better," he countered.

"It won't be easy," she tried again.

"When is it ever?" retorted Harry.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Then she sighed, but it wasn't a tired sound, or unhappy. "Okay, Harry. You win." There was a small smile on her lips. "Let's go change the world as we know it. I'll decide my own path from now on."

* * *

TBC...

* * *

 **Note:** Shakespeare quote is from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , Act 3, scene 2. Hermione's conversation with Harry mimics the conversation that Dr. McKay has with his hallucination of Sam Carter in _Stargate: Atlantis_.

Also, no, this is not a Sirius/Hermione story. At all. Endgame James and Hermione. Promise.


	5. Exile and Friendly Smiles

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

V

* * *

"If you've ever been homesick, or felt exiled from all the things and people that once defined you, you'll know how important welcoming words and friendly smiles can be."

\- 11/22/63, Stephen King

* * *

After her rather confusing talk with herself-disguised-as-Harry in the Room of Requirements, Hermione returned to the Ravenclaw Common Room, waving off Barty's concerned looks and calls of her name as she trudged up the tower until she flopped on her bed in the fourth year dormitory.

Philosophical debate aside, Hermione's existence in the past _was_ unlike her previous journey into the past with Harry and the instance of her time turner. There, two versions of her existed; did this kind of magic imply that by September 1979, _another_ Hermione would be born? Or was Granger-Hermione suddenly nonexistent?

What did that mean in terms of paradoxes? If Granger-Hermione failed to exist, did that mean there wasn't going to be an Evans-Hermione? That there had _never been_ an Evans-Hermione? But if there hadn't been an Evans-Hermione ever, then could there have been a Granger-Hermione, to begin with to get transported back in time…?

Hermione's face pinched as a vicious headache bloomed across her forehead. She moaned, although her pillow muffled it and her face sunk into the feathery marshmallow. Luckily, the dorm was empty, many of her fellow classmates and roommates having much better things to do on a Friday night, especially one before a Hogsmeade weekend.

With any luck, the rumours that would no doubt be flying around Hogwarts of her punching Sirius Black will be overtaken by something that someone would do while at Hogsmeade, or by a rather embarrassing attempt of Potter's on asking Lily out, once again.

No one would remember silly Hermione Evans and her suckerpunching Sirius Black, flouncing away via Shakespeare quote.

 _At least_ , she thought, _I hope not_.

* * *

Hermione was early up on that Saturday morning. She was dressed in her civvies, cast-offs of Petunia and Lily's that Hermione thought was similar enough to her comfort-zone of fashion ranging from the 90s to 10s, which also didn't include polyester pantsuits, bell bottoms, or pastel. While Petunia preferred what Hermione called "sophisticated housewife" in blouses and knee-length skirts that reminded her more of a 50s Stepford, Lily was the flower child in Bohemian tassels and blouses, suede skirts and wide-leg trousers or rustic-inspired dresses.

Hermione was neither, opting for the comfort of knee-length skirts, with knee socks and sweaters overtop that reminded her of her original Hogwarts uniform (the skirt lengths were _much_ longer in the 70s, she had noted immediately); or wide-leg trousers with smart, crisp blouses tucked into the high waists; or the not-quite-there-yet popularity of glam punk with her tight black jeans and flannel shirts - her hair certainly fit in with its wild, riotous curls that could either be disco perm or glamorous mane.

Hoping to do as she usually did during Hogsmeade weekends, Hermione dressed in comfortable jeans and flannel - as she would be continuing her research and practice in transmutation circles and wandless magic with Barty, who also never attended Hogsmeade (unlike Regulus, who often went with _dates_ now) - and met with her best friend at the foot of the stairs in their Common Room.

"Are you alright?" Barty asked nervously, glancing up and down at her.

Hermione frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"There are - rumours -"

"About _what_?" Hermione's narrow-eyed look had Barty struggle for a moment before answering with a sigh.

"That you punched Black?" The rising octave at the end of the sentence made it more of a question than a statement and Hermione mentally groaned.

"Anything else?"

Barty shook his head, his brown eyes wide and entreating as he looked at her. "You didn't _really_ punch him, did you?"

When she didn't answer, he flinched.

"But _why_?" he nearly wailed as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. "You _don't_ want the spotlight! You _hate_ any kind of attention - specifically theirs!"

Hermione fidgeted as they sat, and began reaching for some toast, taking in the soft chatter of her Ravenclaw mates and the excited noise coming from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables behind them.

"It - it was an accident," she murmured offside to him as he bit into a sugary jam tart. "I lost my temper. It won't happen again."

The look Barty sent her was _oh, really?_ to which she stared at him. He muttered, "Well, let's see if that is true, because here comes Black - and not the one we like."

" _Whu_ -"

Just as she spoke, the noise volume around her plummeted as someone slid in the seat next to her, comfortably reaching for her half-eaten toast, plucking it from her hand. Hermione watched, following that toast with her eyes, as it made its way toward Sirius Black, who bit into it and sent her a cheeky grin around the bread.

"That -" sputtered Hermione. "That's my toast."

"It's a tasty slice of bread, love," replied Sirius, the grin still on his lips as he held the toast back out to her to take a bite. "Sharesies?"

Hermione stared at him for a solid minute, incomprehensibly. Sirius looked as handsome as ever, his curls pushed back and off his forehead, his grey eyes warm and practically _daring_ her to punch him again, in casual Muggle wear of jeans and a jumper with a jacket thrown over top.

She then looked around, realized how many people were watching them, and asked, quite sincerely, "Are you lost?"

"Nah, Princess," the fifth-year Gryffindor grinned at her. "I'm right where I want to be." He leaned forward a bit, causing her to lean back into Barty.

Her best friend wrapped a protective arm around Hermione's shoulders, along her sternum, and drew her back further into his chest. His glare smoldered and had it been a spell, Sirius would've been incinerated by the intensity the Ravenclaw was projecting. Sirius, of course, being himself, ignored him.

"Say - Hermione, love," began Sirius, eyes on hers, "D'you have a date for Hogsmeade yet?"

Hermione blinked. "No."

"Oh?" asked Sirius, leaning forward a bit more.

Hermione, in response, leaned back, and Barty slid a bit down the bench, into a scowling sixth year who told him to "watch it, Crouch!", sharply.

She then narrowed her eyes. " _Why_?" she asked, elongating the vowel.

"Why, love," grinned Sirius, lowering his voice to a husky timbre, "' _Hear my soul speak: / The very instant that I saw you, did / My heart fly to your service._ '"

There was a hushed silence, a formed of baited breath around them as girls leaned in closer to hear Hermione's reply, while the boys attempted to look cool and not like they were watching for their own pickup lines and tips from Hogwarts' smoothest serial dater.

Behind her, Hermione could feel Barty's jaw swing down as his mouth dropped open, being pressed against her temple. For herself, Hermione wondered if she had actually died in her sleep without realizing it because Sirius Black was asking her out. _Her_. By quoting _Shakespeare_.

To be sure, Hermione carefully looked around, but nope - he was still looking at her. Frowning, Hermione looked back at Sirius, and said, carefully, "No."

Sirius, in return, blinked. "No?"

"No," she nodded firmly. Behind her, Barty exhaled in relief.

"No… you won't go to Hogsmeade with me?" asked Sirius, in confirmation although his tone radiated his confusion.

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

He perked up. "Yes, you _will_ go with me?"

Hermione wanted to smack her head against the table. "I'm sorry, when did this turn into an Abbott and Costello routine? Black. Read my lips." Hermione leaned in close, in a parody of earlier in which Sirius was now leaning back a little, but his eyes were nearly cross eyed as he looked down his nose to focus on Hermione's mouth as she enunciated each word, " _Not. In. A. Million. Years_."

Behind her, Barty sniggered into his tart, happily biting into it again as Hermione re-established the social order of her not being interested in the Marauders, and turned to casually dismiss the now gobsmacked Gryffindor.

Sirius hummed thoughtfully beside her, his grey eyes reading something off her, but got up from the table. He did lean down, hovering his mouth just by her ear, and whisper, "Until later, Princess."

Before leaving, he gave her a jaunty flick of his fingers goodbye, as well as a wink. He then returned to the Gryffindor table. Immediately, the noise level rose and Hermione could hear parts of the many conversations going on around her:

 _"-punched him yesterday-"_

 _"-it was in the library!"_

 _"-sweet, reciting love poetry-"_

 _"-that was Shakespeare, Delaney, Merlin; aren't you supposed to be a Ravenclaw?"  
"-what a tart, turning down Sirius Black-!"_

 _"-he's a_ dreamboat _!"_

Hermione sighed, looking down at her plate. Maybe she should have gone with 'exit: pursued by bear' as her parting line the previous night instead? _And worse_ , she thought mournfully, Black had taken her toast.

* * *

If Hermione had hoped that Sirius Black's interest in her would wane, she was grossly underestimating the teen's tenacity to go after something that intrigued him - a credit to his future animagus form, or one that he already had, she surmised.

Sirius tried to sit with her and Barty at dinner again, nodding to her friend and turning to her with a smile and a partially wilting flower that he magicked up with a deft flick of his wrist as he presented it to her.

"' _Love sought is good, but giv'n unsought is better_ ,'" he recited, imploring her with wide grey puppy dog eyes to take the flower.

Hermione looked at it, and then at Sirius, and said, blandly, "That's kind of ironic," and then turned back to Barty, as they were in the middle of their charms homework. Sirius pouted, looking down at the wilted flower, and blanched.

"Erm," he said, looking around the Ravenclaw table, but other than several young girls and a few boys, the one he was trying to get to know better was ignoring him.

"-Flitwick said that if you give a bit more of a curl at the end of this spell, though, it'll throw off the entire arithmetic formula," Crouch was arguing, glancing up from their shared notes.

Sirius leaned forward.

Hermione shook her head. "Yes, if you leave the spell the way it is - but if you change the casting - from _arcanum revelare_ to _revelare abscondita_ , you can add the flourish at the end."

Interest piqued, as a part of his brain was going _are they_ inventing and modifying _spells?_ , Sirius leaned forward a bit more, and then shuffled along the bench so that his thigh pressed against Hermione's.

She glanced at him. "What?"

He looked at their notes, which were covered with the fourth-year curriculum Flitwick taught - it was a spell for revealing hidden items, mostly used for inks and misplaced socks - but then at the different coloured ink that Hermione and Crouch were using to adjust the spell to make it more powerful. A series of equations and strange symbols and lines made Sirius blink in surprise.

"This is - seventh-year material!" sputtered Sirius, eyes wide.

The look Hermione and Crouch gave him made him feel like he just missed a first-year answer to a question McGonagall just asked.

Beginning to fidget, and thinking that maybe he was out of his depth, he left. Hermione and Barty would later call it "running away" (which Regulus would mention was something Sirius did quite often to avoid things that made him uncomfortable), but Sirius would argue it was a "strategic retreat."

He needed some help from the Marauders.

* * *

Sirius turned up outside of Transfiguration on Monday morning, with a wide grin and a pleasant, "Morning, Princess!" as he strode up to her, clearly recovered from his Saturday retreat to plan a new attack.

Hermione, squished between Barty and Regulus, took one look at the Gryffindor, shoved her book bag at Barty, and turned on her heel.

"Wait! Hermione! Love! Come back!" shouted Sirius behind her as she disappeared in the crowd. Behind her, she could see him standing on his toes and trying to find her, waving his arm as frantically as she did in her first year in her first life when she knew the answer to a question.

But she sure as hell heard his voice with an extended _sonorous_ in the halls cry after her, "' _For stony limits cannot hold love out, / And what love can do that dares love attempt_ '!"

"Mr. Black!" cried McGonagall, "What is this shouting nonsense?"

Hermione's lips turned up and she ducked down a secret passage to Herbology. It was somewhat amusing. And it was nice to see Sirius smile, acting more his age than the rough, worn-out man he'd become.

 _I suppose I can allow him_ some _fun,_ she thought generously. _But I'm not going to make it easy on him to talk to me. And I won't be going on a date, either._

The mental image of her and Sirius on a date to Madam Puddifoot's - and even better, _Harry's_ reaction - kept the grin on her face for the rest of the day.

* * *

On Wednesday, Hermione thought she had escaped Sirius, ducking and weaving between classmates and crowds, eating in the kitchens, and generally avoiding her usual haunts of the library, the clock tower, or the Room. The Room of Requirement was incredibly helpful, as well, but if she spent too much time in there, it failed to be a secret; Regulus was bound to be more suspicious than he was and Barty couldn't keep a secret from him if his life depended on it.

Instead, Hermione took advantage of the crisp November snow and went for a walk around the Great Lake, snacking on an apple as she mentally calculated the next step for her transmutations. She had mastered several early charms and spells in the Hogwarts curriculum, but Hermione had others plans.

While the majority of the student populace was inside the castle, Hermione figured _now_ was an excellent time to make her next attempt: transmutations without a spell. Theoretically, Hermione posited that she could use her magic instinctively to create what she needed without the arithmetic equations that were bound to many spells. Once she knew the properties of what she wanted to transfigure or transmute, it would be like muscle memory - one she wanted to test on a patch of snow under a tree near the Lake.

Taking a bite out of the apple, and sinking her teeth into it deeply to leave it partially hanging out of her mouth, Hermione shoved her arms out in front of her, palms out with the left on top of the right with her thumbs touching in a triangular shape.

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep inhale through her nose (mindful of the apple still in her mouth), and then swung her arms gently down, separating the two hands in a wide arc away from one another, picturing the snow melting, the water reforming and freezing, turning away to reveal the barren grass below as it rolled and condensed into three separate, perfectly shaped balls -

"Princess!"

Hermione's eyes popped open and whatever magic she gathered in her hands dissipated, and she inhaled, choking on a bit of apple as her teeth came down fully and took a chunk out. The apple dropped from her mouth to the snow, and she whirled to stare at Sirius.

The Gryffindor was grinning at her, surrounded by his friends, but his grin slipped off his face as he realized that he had startled her badly.

Hermione coughed, her hands in front of her mouth, but then Potter was there, slapping her hard on her back and staring down at her from behind his round glasses, muttering, "Hermione, you okay? Breathe. Breathe, Hermione!"

Her face was bright red as she finally managed to either swallow the apple piece or cough chunks up into her hands. Those in her hand she swept away with a nonverbal and wandless _scourgify_ from her skin, leaving it a rubbed pink, and there were tears in her eyes. At her side, Potter rubbed circles on her back. It was strangely comforting - much better than Harry's awkward pats.

Sirius's face was ashen and remorseful as he slowly took a step closer to her. "Merlin, Evans, I'm sorry - I didn't know you were eating anything."

Snuffling a bit and blinking back her tears from the coughs, Hermione took a deep breath and balefully glared up at the much taller teen.

"What are you doing out here?" she grit out.

Sirius blinked, looking at her and then Potter, and then Lupin and Pettigrew, the latter two who both held brooms in their hands. "Ah - we were practicing for Quidditch." Then his face changed and his voice rose earnestly. "And what were _you_ doing out here? What was that that you were doing? I've never seen magic like that!"

Hermione eyed Lupin and Pettigrew - knowing the future possibility of what Pettigrew would do - and decided to keep her abilities quiet. Instead, she sniffled delicately and tilted her chin out. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Sirius."

"Erm," said Potter from Hermione's side.

"It's bloody freezing out here, Princess!" retorted Sirius, and as if on cue, a chilly wind kicked up and Hermione involuntarily shivered. "You should be inside, where it's warm!"

 _Is he… being serious?_ Thought Hermione, stifling a giggle at the pun her brain went to. Instead, she shook her head and dug deep for the ire she usually felt.

" _Excuse me_ ," huffed Hermione, "Who do you think you are? My _dad_? I can be outside in the cold, if I want, Black!"

Pettigrew's head was bouncing back and forth, as he watched them bicker, while Lupin sighed. Potter hadn't removed his hand from Hermione's back, and the warmth from it soaked in through her jacket as he tried again, tentatively saying, "Pads. Pads - really - c'mon. Leave Evans be, yeah?"

Sirius's own head whipped around to look at his best friend. " _Leave her be?_ " he echoed. "Like you leave her sister alone?"

Potter flushed a very embarrassing red that clashed with his Gryffindor scarf. The hand on her back twitched, but Potter didn't add anything else to the conversation.

Instead, Sirius turned back to Hermione, eyes troubled as they looked at her pink and glove-free hands, to her free hair and scarf-less neck, as well as her thin flannel, _sans_ jacket. "Do you have a death wish, woman? Get inside!" at that pronouncement, Sirius went to unzip his jacket. "Merlin - you're shivering - take my jacket and keep warm!"

Hermione stared at him just as Lupin stepped forward and said, "Hey now, Padfoot - it's cold out, why don't you keep your jacket on?"

"Black," said Hermione, her voice tight, feeling odd as she was about to say something _Ron Weasley_ once told. "Are you a wizard or not? It's called a _warming charm_ for a reason."

There was a sly look in Hermione's eyes as she asked, innocently, "Or are you having wand performance issues?"

The stupefied look on Sirius's face - like he got hit with a wet fish - was worth the last five days' of Sirius Black tracking her down and reciting Shakespeare to her. And this was hopefully the end of it.

The hand on her back twitched again - just a bit -, and then Potter was trying to muffle a snort, but it was contagious and both Pettigrew and Lupin were fighting back smiles.

"Oh," said Black, blinking. There was a gleam in his eyes when he spoke next, his tone of grudging respect. "Oh. Well played, Princess. Touché."

She nodded once and stepped away from Potter, who let his hand slide down her back as she did so. When she shivered next it wasn't from being cold, but she refused to analyze it. "Excuse me, boys. I have somewhere I need to be."

She then walked between Potter on her right and Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew on her left, never looking back, even when Sirius shouted after her, "' _For stony limits cannot hold love out, / And what love can do that dares love attempt_.'"

She sighed.

* * *

She had hoped that Sirius's notorious roving eye would have meant that his interest in her would've faded by Friday when her appointed tutoring hour with James Potter rolled by.

Unfortunately, it hadn't.

Hermione valiantly ignored Sirius sitting at the same table with her and James for the first forty minutes. As per their routine, James handed Hermione his returned homework for her to check over, while she had him do a late-semester third year revision quiz. He had speedily progressed to the point that just before the winter holidays, Hermione thought he would be on the fourth year material and potentially ready for his OWLs at the end of that school year.

Once he completed the revision, Hermione asked him to review the mistakes she pointed out on his homework; he would attempt them again while she reviewed his quiz. They worked in silence for the first hour, usually, and it was no different that night except for Sirius's gaze on her.

It made her nervous. His eyes never left her face, or rather, her, as she sometimes glanced over to see the grey dip to her hands, or her neck. She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks and potentially a streak of ink on her cheek.

Despite that, the teen remained surprisingly silent.

It was unnerving.

Potter's nervous glances toward his friend didn't help either.

Hermione was on the last set of revisions on Potter's paper when Sirius sighed, loudly. Her quill streaked red ink across the page and she swore loudly and colourfully.

"Hermione!" cried a delighted Sirius, eyes bright.

"God- _fucking_ -damnit, Sirius!" Hermione slammed her quill down on the table and snapped her fingers over the parchment, watching as her nonverbal _tergeo_ siphoned the spilled ink into a large red blob that, with a directed flick of a pointer finger, returned to her inkwell. " _What_ is your problem? Hmm? Why won't you to _leave me alone_?"

"Because you're so interesting," he replied, a bit lovesick.

Hermione's eyes narrowed on him. "What."

Sirius sat up, eyes wide and pushed his curly black hair off from his face up and over his forehead. He grinned at her. "You're smart, Hermione. And - and _powerful_. You're kind, even though you hide it behind this _awesome_ mean persona that would make the Slytherins weep with fear. You're ahead of _everyone_ in your two favourite subjects, Arithmacy and Charms, and the professors love you."

"Black…"

Sirius's voice, which had been energetic and prideful, softened. His grey eyes which were stormy, melted into a soft dove grey instead and his shoulders relaxed, curling just a bit.

"And - and I know you don't like my attention," he continued

Hermione's ire at the teen began to dissipate slowly, like a smothered fire with only tendrils of smoke softly wafting through the air.

Sirius finally looked away. "But even though all you saw was me shouting at you - trying to get your attention - I watched you all the time."

Potter snorted, and Hermione cut her eyes to him. He nodded emphatically and mouthed, _"All. The. Time."_

"And I saw you with Crouch," continued Sirius, bitterness and guilt creeping into his voice. "And - and Reggie."

Hermione sighed. _And…_ there _goes the last remains of anger I had towards him_. She took a deep breath and remembered the man he would become with twelve years of Azkaban and guilt behind him. She softened her tone. "You have the capacity for great love - I've seen it with your friends. You can be an amazing person, a true Gryffindor: strong, brave, chivalrous."

Both Sirius and Potter were staring at her now.

"But to be those things, for the love of all things holy, I swear to God," sighed a very exasperated Hermione, " _grow up_."

"What?" squeaked Sirius, his voice high. He cleared his throat.

"You heard me," said Hermione, sending Sirius a rather dry look. "If you want to talk to your brother, _go talk to him_. You don't need to pretend to be interested in _me_ to do that, especially just because I have an _in_ with the Slytherins. He's your _brother_."

Sirius's mouth dropped open and then it closed, leaving him gaping like a fish out of water for a bit. "I-"

A part of Hermione was desperately upset at the fact that Sirius was using her to talk to Regulus; but another part of her understood. She, Harry, and Ron got to know the younger Black brother through his heroic and suicidal deed of stealing the locket Horcrux, and even Kreacher could be convinced to share a few stories of the Slytherin on particular maudlin days post-war. The three of them ended up admiring the young man who died at eighteen - barely four years from now in this timeline - and Hermione could understand the pressure that Sirius was under to avoid his brother while wanting to keep an eye out for him. Finding a link between the two - _her_ \- as a go-between was smart.

But damn if it didn't hurt just a bit. What she doomed to be a second thought by _all_ men? The hot taste of bile rose in her throat and her stomach rolled.

With her hands trembling, Hermione turned to Potter, and said, "I'm sorry - I can't do this tonight. We can meet up later to go over things if you want, but I can't stay here."

She gathered up her things, shoving them in her bag. She was caught in a series of memories as they flashed by; leaving her confused and despondent - where was the man she would know in him? She barely recognized him between the malicious glee in his pranks, or the casual disregard for people's feelings. Where was the man that stood up for his godson? The man who would sit and stare in the bottom of a glass and recognize and realize his past mistakes and tried to atone for them?

"Hermione."

Hermione looked up at the gentle calling of her name. She blinked furiously a few times, as Sirius's face was swimming - were those tears in her eyes? The teen had a hand stretched out towards her but it failed to touch. There was a wry smile on his face - a twisted, bitter thing - and the shock of something familiar from _her_ Sirius had Hermione freeze.

"I'm sorry," he continued. "I don't say that often, so treasure that, okay, Princess? I'm the one who crashed the tutoring session - twice now. I'm leaving. I won't bother you again."

"Padfoot?" murmured a surprised Potter, who had remained frozen in his seat, but watching the two, thinking another punch was well on its way.

Sirius turned to his friend and muttered something too low for her to hear. Slowly, Potter nodded, his hazel eyes slipping from his friend to Hermione, standing at the table with her chair pushed back behind her.

The other Gryffindor paused, just for a moment, and then said quietly, "It wasn't just because of Reggie, Princess," and then disappeared behind a tall stack, his steps muted against the wood and turning light as they were swallowed by the other ambient noise of the library.

She was still standing seconds later, frozen. Potter was looking at her with worried eyes. "You alright, Hermione? We can pick this up later, if you want. We don't need to continue."

She blinked at him; taking in what he just said that. Slowly, she sat, eyes on her hands, willing them to stop trembling with nerves.

Potter didn't say anything as she slowly unpacked her notes and quills and ink, nor did he speak when she handed over his graded revision. Instead, she slowly began speaking about integers, almost haltingly. But Potter listened, nodded, and only asked her a question when he needed it. Otherwise, it was the quietest tutoring session that ever had.  
And when he left, before her, he stopped at the side of her chair. He looked down, she looked up, and he tentatively rested his hand on her shoulder - for a single, breathless moment - and then was gone.

 _Huh_ , thought Hermione. _Maybe there actually is a bit of Harry in there to see._

* * *

True to his word, Sirius didn't bother her again. He was no longer shouting Shakespearean love lines at her, nor was he appearing wherever she was, much to Barty's pleasure. Rumours of Hermione turning him down one too many times meant that people shifted their attention from her to the (obviously) heartbroken Sirius Black, who suddenly had an influx of dates for the last Hogsmeade weekend before Yule break.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione was once more - _partially_ \- invisible. Kind of anyway, because every so often, she would feel someone's eyes burn into her back, which faced the Gryffindor table. She never turned around to check who it was - she knew it wasn't Lily, because her sister would just come and sit with her if she wanted to sit and talk and she was the type to pull _everything_ out after cornering them - and Barty never sat opposite from Hermione to check, either. The only one facing the Gryffindor table was Regulus, and despite the assessing grey eyes and the cool smirk on his face, he didn't tell her who it was, either.

(But she had her guesses.)

Slowly, equilibrium was achieved, and a month after the disastrous morning of November's Hogsmeade weekend, at the start of December's, Hermione felt that _this_ was how it was supposed to go: her, in Muggle clothes with an open Advanced Transfiguration text, next to Barty, planning their London outings over the break, and conspiring on how to sneak Regulus away from another Yule party with his family.

"-I heard that there was going to be an amazing New Years' bash," Barty was saying, quickly shovelling in bites of his breakfast for their full day out. She listened fondly to his exuberant voice. "From Elliott Smith? Remember him? Hufflepuff, a year up, and we met him as we were leaving the Leaky in the summer. He was also at Amos Diggory's 1974 'do and said that the man is going to host another this year. _Full_ Muggle, at some pub in the middle of nowhere. What do you say, Hermione? Hmm? Let's?"

"Are we formally invited or crashing?" she asked patiently, shutting the book and slipping it into her book bag.

"Oh, crashing," nodded Barty emphatically, eyes wide with mischief. "Definitely. We'll bring Reg, too." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Have you got his gift yet? For Yule?"

Hermione gave Barty some side-eye and a quirk of her lips. "What makes you think I have _yours_?"

He stared at her for a moment, and then let out a laugh. An arm stretched out and around her shoulder, hauling her into his side tightly. He leaned his chin on her bushy head, and Hermione - fully taking advantage of (not-)Harry's advice to live her life, to make her own decisions as though nothing could mess up the timeline, and leaned back in to her friend.

"I don't know what happened," whispered Barty quietly in her ear, his voice low, "But I like this you. You've changed - since you started tutoring Potter, and even after that Black nonsense. Whatever it is - don't let yourself go back to how you were before."

"I won't," she promised quietly, snaking her own arm around his back and squeezing.

They sat in silence for a bit, and then, as students slowly filtered from the Hall to the Clock Tower, Hermione and Barty joined them waiting in line for a carriage. Regulus slithered up at one point, dressed impeccably in his pressed trousers and cloak, his black, curly hair a mop on his head but artfully styled.

"Morning," he said, the words crisps and clear in his rounded Pureblood tones. "Where to, first?"

The three exchanged glances as they moved up several spots.

"Honeydukes?" suggested Barty, naming his favourite shop.

Hermione eyed him fondly. "Have you already gone through your stash?"

Regulus snickered behind a hand as Barty pouted. "You say that like it's a _bad_ thing! Besides, you just want to visit Scrivenshaft's for a new quill - that's the, what? _Fourth_ you've broken since beginning to tutor Potter?"

Hermione's amusement disappeared quickly and she scowled at her friend, while Regulus's snickers grew louder.

They were at the head of the queue, and then in one of the (not so) horseless carriages. Easy conversation flowed between the three, with Hermione relaxing into the hard black leather of the carriage's seats, until they were through the gate and at the Hogsmeade station.

Between Honeydukes, Scrivenshaft's, and Zonko's, they made quick work of any shopping desires, and Hermione even had time to slip away from the two males to get their Yule cards and to place the final touches on their presents.

By noon, their stomachs were growling and they laughingly entered the Three Broomsticks, which was noisy and loud, as several others had the same thought as they did. However, Regulus's keen eyes found them a booth tucked in the far corner, the furthest from the door along the front by the window, so that they could gossip and window watch.

It wasn't until they were done their meal that Hermione realized the group of teens sitting nearby, one in particular who kept glancing over, thinking he was subtle. When Hermione finally caught the grey eyes, she quirked an eyebrow.

The teen sighed, and muttered something to his friends, shoving his hands into the pockets of the leather jacket he wore, and he slouched and strode over, around discarded seats and a few knapsacks on the sticky floor.

Hermione watched his progress until he was standing at their table, shifting uncomfortably as he waited to be noticed. The conversation between Barty and Regulus trailed off, with Barty glaring at the Gryffindor teen hotly.

Barty was slowly reaching for one of his last chips, never taking his eyes off Sirius as he brought it to his mouth and began munching on the soggy potato. Sirius grimaced but nodded at him, as well. "Crouch." His voice was significantly warmer when he turned to Hermione. "Evans." His eyes then turned to the teen sitting across from Hermione and Barty.

Regulus stared coolly at his brother. "Sirius."

Sirius shuffled a bit and nodded, sharply, once. "Reg."

Regulus leaned back in the seat, adopting a very carefree and relaxed pose. "What brings you to our table?"

"I - ah - I -" Sirius flicked his eyes over at Hermione, almost in desperation as something close to panic and annoyance crossed his face, shortly. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, determination was writ on his face.

"I'm staying at the Potters for Yule, Reg. I wasn't sure if I would see you again before school starts back up in January, so…" he trailed off, sighing loudly and glancing away. A nervous hand ran through his hair. Finally, he shrugged, and withdrew a small package from his leather jacket pockets.

Hermione watched as he made an aborted motion - first to almost toss the item carelessly onto their dirty tabletop - but then he gently placed it before his brother. "Happy Yule, Reggie."

Regulus stared hard at the gift for several moments. From her position - and Barty's as well - they could see the emotions flit across his face: shock, suspicion, annoyance, and then finally, resigned acceptance and a bit of fondness.

The younger Black reached for the gift and drew it close to him. "It's not going to blow up in my face, is it?"

Sirius barked out a laugh. It was so eerily familiar Hermione startled a bit. "No. No, Reg, it's not - I swear on my honour as a Marauder that it's not a prank."

"Hmm," replied Regulus, but he carefully placed the gift in the pockets of his own cloak. When he looked up at his elder brother, his own grey eyes were bright. "My thanks. Happy Yule, Sirius."

Sirius bobbed his head in a strange sort of not-quite-a-nod at his brother and Barty, who had his eyes narrowed, and then turned to Hermione. "No sonnets this time, Princess."

"Oh?" Hermione's own eyes narrowed and she leaned back in her seat, but unlike Regulus's cool look, she crossed her arms combatively.

Sirius shook his head. "Just -" he paused, his head cocked slightly to the side as though he was listening to something else. "Just, _thanks_."

He then turned and stalked back through the busy room of the Three Broomsticks, until his friends who crowded him, speaking all at once, and then they were gone, through the door with a cold blast of December air.

"What just happened?" asked Barty eventually, dragging his last chip through the leftover ketchup. He began to draw patterns that Hermione recognized as Arithmacy equations.

Hermione turned to look at Barty and then past him, out the window. Through the thick glass, she spotted twin blurry black heads crowd together with two sandy blonds.

"I think we just witnessed Sirius Black growing up," she said with a small grin on her lips. At Barty's look of horror, she laughed.

And across from them, Regulus leaned back in his seat, a small, contented smile on his lips as he hand, under the table, turned over the small gift in his pocket, again and again, reassuring himself it was still there.

* * *

 **AN:** Sirius's Shakespearean quotes, in order: _The Tempest, Twelfth Night, Romeo and Juliet, Troilus and Cressida_.

Working on updating _the Winter Witch_ soon, as well as continuing _Cursed Be this Soul (that Ties Us Together)_. I hurt the fleshy part of my thumb and it's super swollen and hurts and I don't know how, so typing has been fun and short-lived in sporadic bursts of pain-free inspiration. In addition, working on a chapter for publication on King Arthur, so that comes first. More updates in August, once I settle into my new house (!).

For those who may have contributed to my P*treon – I appreciate your donations kindly, but is a bitch and won't let me remove any funds, so I will be shutting my account down. I am currently in the process with Support to refund patronage.


	6. Einstein's General Theory of Relativity

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

VI

* * *

 **Lt. Ford** : Is time-travel possible?

 **Dr. McKay** : Well, according to Einstein's General Theory of Relativity, there's nothing in the laws of physics to prevent it. Extremely difficult to achieve, mind you – you need the technology to manipulate black holes to create wormholes not only through points in space, but time.

 **Maj. Sheppard** : Not to mention a really nice De Lorean.

 **Dr. McKay** : Don't even get me started on that movie!

 **Maj. Sheppard** : I liked that movie!

\- _Stargate Atlantis_ , "Before I Sleep," 1x15

* * *

The worst thing about travelling on the Hogwarts Express back to London for the holidays was the fact that Hermione's (new? Second? whatever.) parents lived in Yorkshire.

After leaving Hogwarts in the morning, they'd arrive sometime early afternoon. Disembarking, saying goodbye to friends (when one was Lily; Hermione didn't have many friends), collecting their trunks, and then making their way surreptitiously through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, purchasing their train tickets, the inevitable wait, and then the four-hour train ride north… it was past dinner when they arrived in Hull.

Leo Evans was waiting for his daughters at the ASDA parking lot adjacent to the train station in his car, window cracked as he smoked and read a newspaper by the light of a streetlamp.

"Hello girls!" he greeted his daughters when he spotted them coming over the metal bridge, exiting the car and greeting Lily first with a tight hug. The redhead laughed happily, dropping her trunk and squeezing their father back tightly.

"Daddy!"

Then Leo turned to Hermione. "Hello, sweetheart," he said, and gently, tentatively, reached for Hermione to draw her into a careful hug.

Stunned, Hermione could only think, _have I truly been that closed off to everyone, including my own family in this time?_ Resolved, after her talk with not-Harry, Hermione reached around her father and tightly hugged him back.

The man exhaled loudly and brought a hand up to cup the back of Hermione's bushy curls. "Oh, my little Queen…"

Hermione's eyes burned and she furiously blinked back tears. She sniffed as she withdrew from the hug and saw her father's eyes were shining a bit brightly in the streetlamp. He cleared his throat and roughly said, "Let's get your trunks into the boot then, shall we? Rose has a stew on for you both."

Lily clambered into the front seat next to her father, chattering away of the fall semester with all the spells they were learning and the latest gossip from Gryffindor. Hermione, quietly, settled in the back, letting Lily take the spotlight.

It was habitual, but something was different this time: Leo glanced at his youngest daughter in the rear-view mirror and smiled.

This time, instead of pulling out a book to read or turning away from the look to stare out at the un/familiar hometown, Hermione smiled back.

A few days later, Hermione's eyes followed the confident forms of her mother and Lily as they effortlessly moved from one part of the kitchen to the other. She leaned against the wall at the kitchen entrance, eyes moving back and forth, as Lily stirred something on the stovetop, and her mother chopped vegetables at the counter.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Hermione eventually, despite the cramped space. She wanted to add something to the family dinner, even if it was just taking the roast from the oven.

"Oh, no, love," said Rose, flashing a smile at her youngest. "Lily and I have everything in hand here."

"Thanks anyway!" piped up Lily from the stove, grinning. "Why don't you go back to the living room and read?"

 _Ouch_ , thought Hermione, although it was without much bite. Suddenly she was wondering if others in her previous life dismissed her as someone that they thought would prefer books to human interaction. To be fair, they weren't wrong per se, but -

Hermione sighed and turned, only to bump into Petunia who had crept up behind her. Her eldest sister's long face softened from the scowl she had been wearing, and her green eyes flickered between the kitchen and Hermione.

"Daddy's snoring in his chair," said Petunia. "I could use some help finishing the decorations on the tree."

Brightening, Hermione followed Petunia to their living room at the front of the house, and together, the two pulled out ornaments and foil from storage boxes. The two didn't speak as they decorated the tree, but Hermione had a smile on her face as she contributed to her family's tradition, something she had never done before.

Every so often, she'd feel Petunia's eyes on her, and when she'd glance up, Petunia was resolutely looking elsewhere. But as the evening progressed, and by the time Rose shouted, "dinner!" and Leo awoke with a snort from his nap, Petunia's face had softened and there was even a small smile on her lips.

* * *

Christmas Day was spent at the church in the morning, and then home for a late, large family lunch that included Leo's parents - their paternal grandparents - and their paternal uncle at their house. The dining table sat a very cramped eight, and when they were younger, Lily also had invited Severus Snape over; making an even more cramped nine at the table. As it stood, eight was enough for them, and the two girls attending Hogwarts didn't have to carefully school Snape in how to act or what to say around their extended muggle family.

They began their Christmas tradition with their lunch, and their grandparents Humphrey and Marie Evans, asking the girls about school. Hogwarts was a bit wishy-washy on what they thought of 'immediate family,' usually limiting it to the parents of magical children only in the muggle world, but their father's family in close proximity and the accidental witnessing of Lily once changing the patterns on their grandmother's favourite tea set during a birthday celebration, they were brought into the fold.

Rose began to enthuse about Petunia's latest grades and how her A-levels were going. "-and Pet has some of the highest grades in her English class!"

"That's wonderful, dear," said their grandmother, reaching over from beside Petunia to pat her on her arm. There was a grimace of distaste when she turned to the other two. "And how are things going at your - _boarding_ school, girls?"

Lily immediately bloomed, her face animated as she gave a play-by-play of her courses, her OWL prep, and some anecdotes of her fellow Gryffindor dorm mates. Hermione let her sister's voice wash over her as she ate her vegetables and roast silently, her thoughts focused inward on the letter she needed to send to Barty to coordinate their New Years' plans of crashing Amos Diggory's party, and how they were going to sneak Regulus away, when Lily's voice permeated her mind.

"-punched Sirius Black in the face! In the _library_ ," finished Lily, her voice dropping on the last word.

Hermione's head popped up from looking at her plate to see the various looks her family members were giving her. Petunia looked horrified, as did her mother and grandmother, while her father and uncle seemed torn between bemused and affronted.

"Whatever did this Black boy do to you, Hermione?" asked her grandfather.

She shot a nasty glare at Lily, who shrugged back. Hesitantly, Hermione answered, "... he interrupted a tutoring session I was giving his best friend."

"Sirius Black… Sirius Black," mused Rose, tapping a finger to her lips. "He's best friends with James Potter? That boy that you're complaining about, Lily? The one that fancies you?"

Lily turned a shade of red that didn't compliment her hair colour. "He's a toe rag," she muttered. "He's cruel and plays terrible pranks on Severus."

Both Petunia and Hermione rolled their eyes; although Petunia's response was because she disliked Snape in general, for Hermione, it was because she knew the Slytherin gave as good as he received. Neither were innocent in their hexing of one another.

"And you're tutoring him, Hermione, dear?" asked Rose, a frown on her face. "Is Potter bothering you, too?"

Hermione shook his head. "No - that was Black. After I punched him, I recited some Shakespeare - a mistake, in hindsight - and then he spent two weeks following me around, shouting sonnets at me."

Her uncle laughed into his napkin. "Well, that's better than the proposal Lily got."

Lily sent her uncle a nasty look at the memory of James Potter shouting his intent to marry her in their second year. She had loudly complained about it when she returned home for Christmas.

"In my day, we didn't need to shout things at the young ladies we were interested in," grumbled Humphrey, turning to face his wife, who smiled back at him. "We gave the woman we courted every courtesy she deserved, by being attentive to her needs, kind, and respectful."

Marie patted her husband on his arm, as she had Petunia but this time it was slightly patronizing. "And yet I remember you chasing me down from one dance hall to the next with my girlfriends, seeking my time."

Hermione's grandfather flushed.

"Should we worry about this Black?" asked Leo, worriedly.

His brother snorted. "Leonard. Please. If Hermione's going around smacking him and he's following her around afterward, I think she can handle herself."

Hermione blushed at the insinuation and Petunia stifled a gasp while Lily snickered into her roast beef. "It's fine, we don't need to worry!" she yelped. "He only wanted to talk to his brother and thought to go through me was a fine idea."

Now, her grandfather and uncle scowled. "What?"

Hermione shrugged, unconcernedly, while moving some cut pieces of food around her face, twirling her fork. "It's fine. I don't have time for boys, anyway. Besides, I'm only fourteen."

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Lily jumped in, "What Hermione isn't saying here is that our charms and arithmancy professors think she'll write her end of school exams in those subjects this year! Who needs boys when she's a little brainy monster!"

And amidst all the clamour of her grades, the praise that heaped upon her from her family, Hermione offered a few thin, tight smiles that never quite reached her eyes.

* * *

Petunia came to check on her a week later, on New Years' Eve. Hermione was in her bedroom, the one she shared with Lily, as they were the closest in age (and it made sense keeping all the magic stuff in one, contained, area). Lily was downstairs, drinking cider with their parents in the living room as they watched a programme on the BBC. Petunia was the last to get ready for their NYE outing to the local.

Her eldest sister knocked on her slightly ajar door and pushed it opened. "Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading on her bed, cross-legged. "Tuney?"

Biting her lip, the blonde entered the room and her eyes darted this way and that as she took in the pile of magical texts on Hermione's desk, or the sleeping owl near Lily's bed, with a wing covering its face.

Petunia tentatively sat on the very edge of Hermione's bed. "Are you sure you want to stay in tonight?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think I'll be fine."

"Well, it's just that-" Petunia paused. "Sean has a few friends coming tonight as well, if you wanted to meet any of them…?

 _Sean?_ thought Hermione, frowning as she tried to recognize the name. _Who's that?_

Petunia must have read her face because she gave a tight smile. "That's right; you weren't around when I was telling mum and daddy about him. He's my boyfriend."

"The rugby player from Cokeworth Secondary?" asked Hermione, thinking back to a brief conversation she had walked on in earlier during the holidays.

Petunia's face lit up and her smile smoothed out. "Yes! Anyway - Sean has some friends coming tonight. I know mum and daddy will be there too, but, they won't be everywhere…?"

"Tuney," began an incredulous Hermione, "Are you - are you trying to set me up on a date?"

A rosy blush covered Petunia's fair skin. She looked away and began playing with a loose thread on her cardigan. "It's just that - at dinner that night - you seemed - about that - that _boy_ at your… your _school_ -"

Hermione felt her heart swell. Petunia never liked it when Lily went on about Hogwarts, not since she first attended; but Hermione knew that was due to the way Lily crowed about her life there, and Petunia felt like Lily was leaving her behind. By association, Hermione was part of that, but since she never engaged with her family in general, Petunia had less animosity towards her silent and closed off sister. The fact that Petunia had even decided to bring up the conversation about a wizard and Hogwarts - even obliquely - was huge.

"I'm not interested in Sirius," replied Hermione calmly, closing her book and setting it aside.

"But you want him to be…?" asked Petunia.

Hermione laughed. "No. Not at all. I think one day he might be a friend, but he's not grown-up enough for me."

Petunia nodded. "You are fourteen, going on forty."

 _You have no idea_ , thought Hermione in amusement. "School is enough for me right now, Tuney. And I have my friends."

Both girls looked over at her desk, where a single framed photo of her, Barty, and Regulus was displayed in a glittery frame.

"In fact," continued Hermione, almost fondly, "That black-haired boy? That's Sirius's younger brother. They don't talk much, being in different Houses at Hogwarts, so Sirius used me to bridge that gap."

Petunia nodded, slowly, but Hermione wasn't sure her elder sister understood. "Anyway - don't tell mum or dad, but I've got plans tonight."

Eyes lit up at the source of new gossip. "What?"

Hermione grinned conspiratorially. "I'm meeting with Barty and Reg later and we're going to crash a party. We've been planning it awhile now."

Petunia's mouth dropped open. She leaned forward, eyes wide. " _Really?_ "

Hermione nodded.

"Wow," breathed Petunia, leaning back. She eyed her sister like she had never seen her before. "You will be safe, won't you? You won't have to chase away any slobbering boys from assaulting you, will you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Reg wouldn't kiss me - he's too much a Pureblood for that. I swear, he thinks I have cooties or something. And Barty sees me as a sister."

"Mmm," replied Petunia, unconvinced.

"Oh, honestly, Tuney. As if someone will kiss me at midnight. Don't you know? I'm the know-it-all loner bookworm."

* * *

Despite the more _sympathetic_ ideologies the Potter kept towards what the majority of Society thought as 'blood traitors,' 'mudbloods' and 'squib riffraff,' they were still in good enough standing to be invited to a large amount of galas, parties, soirees, and - most importantly - the New Years' Ball, this year hosted by the Greengrass family.

Luckily, as Pureblood society deemed those under seventeen to not be legally adults in their world, the "children" were sectioned off from much of the main party where the adults mingled and subtly insult one another based on their looks, financial status, politics, ., until the clock would strike midnight; the children, on the other hand, ranging from eleven to sixteen, were in a different set of rooms.

Except for Sirius and James, of course.

It was just gone nine-thirty, and the two fifteen-year-olds had snuck out from the children's room under the cover of a loud prank (something involving dungbombs, Augustine Selwyn, and the punch bowl). Outside, with warming charms cast on themselves to starve off the chill from the December air, they leaned against the rough brick of the old manor home, pressed tightly to the wall to keep to the shadows in case a nosy adult, or house elf, went looking for them. They kept well out of sight from the gas-lit hanging wall sconces, finding the perfect dark spot between two.

Backs against the brick, they stood on a small cement verandah with a heavy matching balustrade that separated the patio from the well-tended garden and gravel path towards the hothouse. From there, they surveyed the expansive Greengrass gardens and the large hothouse adjacent to the property, filled with exotic and rare specimens, below them. Parallel to the hothouse was a large hedgerow maze, with a large fountain at its center that James and Sirius knew intimately from when the Greengrasses held a summer gala a few years ago.

Sirius dug out a small flask from his dress robe pocket - stylishly mimicking a Muggle cutaway coat much to his mother's ire - and shook it a bit, as he offered it to his friend. "Firewhiskey?"

James reached out and took a swig. Both had been sneaking sips of the whiskey and as James swallowed, it was with minimal eye watering. Sirius grinned, his teeth shining white in the dark.

"Here's to them wiz," toasted Sirius, taking the flask back and raising it briefly. "Prejudiced racist snots the lot of them, but damn do they make good alcohol."

The two snickered, shoving back and forth at one another as they snuck sips of the warm liquid.

"New year, new goals," said Sirius at one point, buzzed but nowhere near sloshed. "Still planning on your never-ending, not-going-anywhere quest to woo fair Lily as we enter 1976?"

James rolled his eyes. "It's going! She talks to me now."

Sirius gave him a bland stare. "Yeah, Prongs. To complain about how you treat Hermione."

"She does not!" he bristled.

"Yeah? Tell me one time where you two had a decent conversation."

"Well - uh… that is -" At Sirius's stare, he wilted. "I can't remember. But I'm sure we've had at least _one_!"

"Maybe back in first year, before she knew what a tosser you were," laughed Sirius, taking the sting out of his words with a grin and nudge.

James morosely sighed. "What am I doing wrong, Pads? I like to think I'm a good catch of a wizard."

"Right you are, Jimmy-boy," agreed Sirius, nodding. He leaned back and eyed his best friend from head to toe, leering outrageously. "Why, you're handsome - not as handsome as _me_ , though - and wicked clever with Transfiguration, and funny to boot! What isn't there to like?"

James grinned back at his friend.

"Why," continued Sirius loftily, "I think even at a push we could say that the younger Miss Evans doesn't mind you, and isn't that saying something?"

The Potter heir chuckled. "Hermione is a bit of a prickly one, isn't she?"

"Wet nundu," nodded Sirius sagely.

"She must have kept to herself for most of her time at Hogwarts," mused aloud James, tilting his head up to look at the wide range of stars that spread across the inky sky above them. "Given that I never knew she existed at all before she began tutoring me."

Sirius copied his position, leaning bodily against James so that they were touching from shoulder to hip to leg, one giant shadowy mass hidden against the manor's bricks. "You'd think _I'd_ have noticed her. I mean -" he broke off and coughed at the glare James sent him. " _I meant_ , Potter - get your head out of the gutter - that she knows Reg. I'd have noticed if she hung out around him often. But I never did. But they're close enough that he pals around with her and that Crouch kid."

"She's pretty talented with magic, too," added James quietly. "But I don't hear the Professors singing her praises like they do Lily's."

"She's more of a wallflower type, I suppose," sighed Sirius, bringing the flask up with the arm that wasn't pressed against his friend. He took a sip. "But does she _ever_ have a temper!"

"Yeah, she socked you _good_ ," laughed James, thinking back to the library event.

"Yeah," agreed Sirius, a goofy grin on his face. "Gotta admire a broad like that. I don't think anyone's hit me like that since Reggie did last year after the Quidditch final!"

"Speaking of your brother…" James nudged Sirius back, tilting his chin down and jerking it towards the garden below them.

"Wha…?"

Together, the two Gryffindors leaned forward, peering into the dark. Below, they made out a lean figure edge their way along the gravel path, skirting the edges nearest to the waist-height bushes that lined it. When they reached the entrance to the maze, the figure hugged along the taller hedge until they slipped around the corner.

Immediately, Sirius tucked the flask into his pocket in one move while bounding forward and leaping over the thick balustrade, using it to leapfrog, and landed near silently on his boots in the dewy grass. James scrambled to follow.

" _Sirius_!" he hissed, but his best friend was already halfway down the gravel path, and by the time he caught up with him, Sirius was peering around the hedge.

Without taking his eyes off his brother, Sirius muttered, "He's going 'round the hothouses and towards the back gate of the property. Where are you going, little brother?"

The two snuck across the grounds, slightly hunched over until they were at the edge of the hothouse. They both peered around and saw Regulus glance back, making them duck. Sirius swore.

When they looked again, Regulus was at the gate, looking up at the heavy cement column that bracketed the swinging metal.

"C'mon, Prongs!" Sirius grabbed James' sleeve. "He's probably going to climb the thing and when he does, we'll lose him on the other side! Let's go!"

"Where - do - you - think - he's - going?" panted James as they darted across the grounds.

Sirius shrugged, tossing his wavy hair. "Who knows? But the fact that my perfect baby brother is skipping out on the New Year's party that _I know for a fact_ my mother wanted him to attend makes this all the more interesting!"

Regulus was, by the time they were two meters away, clambering up the cement block and was pushing himself up on the flat top.

"Oh, little brother!" called Sirius gleefully. "What _are_ you doing?"

On top of the flat column, Regulus glanced back and winced at the sight of his brother and his brother's best friend. He sighed. "Go _away_ , Sirius."

"Not gonna happen," replied Sirius flatly, eyeing his brother as he perched on the column. "Just where are you going, Reggie? Because I find it really unbelievable that _you_ of all people would sneak out from a soiree from under mother's nose."

James could visibly see the strain from Regulus as he bit his lip - a strangely obvious slip from the Slytherin with his naked emotional response. Finally, Regulus's shoulders hunched.

"What do you want, Sirius?"

Sirius, in response, rocked back on his heels. "I want to know where you're going!"

Something flashed in Regulus's eyes - as though he was contemplating what it was worth to lie versus telling the truth - but then he muttered, "New Years' party."

James frowned. "But you're at one now."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Not the one I'd prefer to be at."

"A party filled with your slimy Slytherin friends?" sneered Sirius, guessing where his brother was heading out to. "At some private Pureblood daddy's summer house?"

"... No," replied Regulus slowly. "If you must know, it's a Hufflepuff who's hosting."

James blinked and Sirius's rock back took him so far he actually stumbled. "What?" the Black heir stuttered.

"Look, I'm going to be late enough as it is, and I don't want to miss more than I already have," sighed Regulus. "So, I'm leaving now and I would prefer if you kept this between us and didn't tell mother."

There was a glint in Sirius's eyes as he leaned forward. James stifled a groan. "What's it worth?"

This time, Regulus did groan. "Sirius, _please_. I'm going now!"

"Oh, yeah, you are," grinned Sirius, "And so are we. C'mon, Prongsie! We're escorting my little brother to this party. A _'Puff_! Ha! What do you take me for, a fool?"

* * *

"Famous last words, Sirius," muttered Regulus twenty minutes later, as the Slytherin and two Gryffindors stood in the middle of Ottery St. Catchpole, a tiny muggle town.

The town boasted a post office, a small grocer's, a butcher's, two churches, a social club, and three pubs. The furthest pub from the center of town, the Beaver and the Dam, was where the three ended up, following the raucous laughter and brightly dressed wizards and witches in magenta and pink and yellow robes commandeered the premises, much to the confusion of the few muggles at the pub.

James sent a commiserating look to his best friend. "He's got you there, Pads."

"It - it's a New Years' bash," stuttered Sirius in shock, grey eyes darting around. "You weren't joking about it!"

Regulus sent him a nasty look. " _I_ don't joke around."

With that said, he strode forward and into the pub, leaving James and Sirius to scramble after him. Inside, it was loud with music crashing through several speakers, and behind the bar, they could see Amos Diggory, a Hufflepuff who graduated several years ago. The man was laughing and using his wand to make bottles float as he attempted some sort of mixed drink.

The pub itself was crowded; several people were in standing-only room, as the booths and tables were full with a cluster of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and some Slytherins. Both Sirius and James immediately noted that there were no Gryffindors.

"Jimmy!" shouted Sirius over the ambient noise, eyes wide. "How the hell did my brother know about this party? And where did he go?"

James just shook his head, eyes wide behind his glasses as well, as they picked out some familiar halfbloods and muggleborns that he recognized from school - and then his eyes stopped.

"I've found him," replied James.

Sirius spun and asked, "Where?" following James's line of sight, and then his mouth dropped open.

In a dark corner, Regulus was standing with a drink in his hand - _a_ muggle _drink_ , Sirius's brain supplied as it shorted out - and happily chatting with none other than Barty Crouch and Hermione Evans.

"Did - did my brother sneak out of a Pureblood party to hang out with his friends in a muggle pub?" asked a rather lightheaded Sirius as he reached forward and heavily clutched at James's shoulder.

His best friend merely nodded.

Slowly, a grin spread across Sirius's face. James could easily see what he was thinking: that Regulus wasn't a lost cause at all. _"That's my little brother!"_ Sirius cried, and then began heading towards the small group.

James sighed and followed.

* * *

Since Leo and Rose Evans were used to Hermione's rather antisocial ways, as well as her disappearing acts over the years, they thought little of her skipping out of the Evans family New Year's celebrations, as she did that all the time. Her Evans parents instead decided to join Petunia and her boyfriend - not Vernon Dursley just yet, but the barrel-chested Sean from Cokeworth Secondary - and his parents at the local, and Lily decided to join them, as Severus Snape decided to remain at Hogwarts.

Hermione was sure that everyone thought she'd be at home the entire night, curled up with a book, but twenty minutes after they left (including a very obvious wink from Petunia as she loudly stated they were leaving now, _bye Hermione_!), Hermione had changed into something a bit dressier (wide trousers with a sleeveless blouse she tucked into the high waist of the pants), grabbed a coat, and then held her wand aloft to summon the Knight Bus.

Then she was meeting Barty at the Leaky where he joined her, and then they were speeding to Ottery St. Catchpole, where Hermione was visiting for the first time in this timeline and _not_ seeing the Weasleys. That was odd.

Barty rubbed his hands gleefully. "Excited?"

Hermione cast him a glance. "To crash a Hufflepuff alum party? Sure."

"What's wrong?" asked Barty, frowning. "Did something happen at home? Did your sister say something to you?" His eyes widened. "Was it about Black? About you _punching_ him? Or his endless following you around?" Barty's hand clenched into fists. "It's practically harassment! I can't believe McGonagall thought some of it was funny! Stupid Gryffindors."

"No, it wasn't that," explained Hermione patiently, instantly soothing Barty's ruffled feathers. But how to explain that, despite her change in attitude that Barty and Regulus so clearly saw in her, her own parents in this time, failed to recognize? Even Lily - who saw her every day at Hogwarts - seemed to think that Hermione was just as aloof as usual, preferring books to company.

 _How odd that it's Petunia who noticed my clumsy attempts at rejoining the family,_ thought Hermione with a minor frown.

"Oi, stop it with that sad face," said Barty. "We're here, anyway. First pint's on me!"

Hermione joined her friend at the bar, shouted a greeting at Elliott Smith - the Hufflepuff they were on vaguely friendly terms with as he introduced them to a slightly drunk twenty-year-old Amos Diggory - and then retreated to a dark corner with their drinks and wait for Regulus.

"Did something happen at home?" asked Barty eventually, after their silence had gone on too long. He had finished his drink, had found a discarded can, and was working through that.

Hermione shook her head. "It's fine."

"It's not if it's made you moody."

"I am not-!" the token protest turned into a sigh. Hermione put her half-finished drink down and ran her hands through her curls. "Alright, fine, yes. I made a promise to myself that I would… be more social and involved."

Barty eyed her strangely. "You have been."

"At home too," continued Hermione, "And while my father may have seen my attempts, the only person who seemed to realize what I was doing what my elder sister, Petunia."

"Wait - the mean one? The muggle?" Barty's face scrunched up as he tried to remember. "I thought she hated you and your sister."

"Apparently less so than I thought," sighed Hermione. "Anyway - listen, it's going to be a new year. We should celebrate all the amazing things we're going to do in 1976!"

Barty's eyes lit up. "Like cracking nonverbal spells!"

She picked up her drink and clinked it with his, sloshing their ale. "Like transmutation!"

"Like Calypso Fawcett saying yes to a date with me?"

The two spun to see Regulus standing by them; three drink in his hands and a grin on his face as he passed them around. Hermione groaned but took the offered drink, even if she wasn't done her first yet. "Oh, just give it up, Reggie. That girl's never going to say yes to you."

Barty nodded knowing, a slight sway as he mixed his drinks and took two chugs of the dark pint Regulus offered. "I suggest Belinda Smith."

"Smith?" an incredulous voice asked, and Hermione startled. She turned her head and saw the last two people she would ever expect to see come to stand with them in their small corner. Both were dressed completely out of character for the muggle pub, in fashionable wizard's robes, indicating that they had snuck from somewhere, just like Regulus; unlike them, however, Regulus took the time to transfigure his clothing.

Sirius Black was looking back and forth between Regulus, Barty, and Hermione. He finally turned to James. "Isn't she a Hufflepuff?"

Barty nodded emphatically. "She is!"

Regulus scowled. "What is wrong with you? Thinking I'd date a _Hufflepuff_?"

A passing by woman shot Regulus a nasty look and Barty sniggered into his pint, drowning the rest of the liquid.

Sirius patted his shoulder sympathetically while Regulus's scowl deepened.

"What's wrong with a Hufflepuff?" asked Hermione curiously. But here, all the boys, except Barty who was silently giggling to himself, made a face. "What?"

"It's just that -" began James, looking awkward and then shrugged his shoulders. "Smith _giggles_ all the time."

"And her perfume makes me sneeze," added Sirius, wrinkling his nose.

Regulus nodded. "And her friends." He shuddered and then turned to Barty to give him stink eye. "Honestly, mate, why would you even _suggest_ that?"

A tiny spark of chaotic glee lit Barty's eyes. "That girl that passed by? The one earlier?"

"Yes…?" began a cautious Regulus.

"That was Belinda Smith's best friend; who also happens to be Calypso Fawcett's cousin," grinned Barty.

"God damn it, Barty!" barked Regulus, sounding more like Sirius at that moment. "Fuck! I need to find her and do damage control. I even bought a super expensive and proper Yule gift for Calypso to give to her when we return to school…"

Muttering, Regulus turned on his heel and stalked off.

Sirius, uncharacteristically silent, glanced between those remaining and then looking after his younger brother. "I think I'm going to go make sure he doesn't make things worse." He gave an apologetic look at James. "Sorry, mate."

James sighed.

"Barty," said Hermione seriously, "No more beer for you."

She reached out and plucked his empty glance from his hand while he giggled, trying to tug it back. "What? Hermione, _nooooo_."

James sighed. "Lightweight."

"Sorry," said Hermione, but it was slightly mocking. "We Ravenclaws don't pull out all the stops for our house parties like you Gryffindors do."

James mocked surprise, bringing a hand to his chest. "'Claws have _parties?_ How ever do you find the time to be away from your precious books?"

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes and Barty swayed.

"'Mione?" he muttered. "I don't feel so good."

"Jesus, Barty, you _are_ a lightweight," admonished Hermione. "Don't embarrass me now in front of Potter. What happened to last summer when we finished that entire bottle of Odgen's at your lake house?"

Barty's face turned green at the memory. He shoved at James, who stumbled back as the younger teen pushed away from the crowd.

" _Annnnd_ another one bites the dust," sighed Hermione.

"Oh!" said James, grinning, "That's clever."

Hermione frowned as she tried to think what he was referring to, and then audibly groaned. "And won't make sense for another four years."

"What?"

Hermione shook her head. "Never mind."

The two stood in silence for a bit, and Hermione wrestled with the urge to sigh and cast a _tempus_ to know how close it was to midnight. This was _not_ going how she thought her night would. Crashing Diggory's bash was boring without her friends.

"So. Um. Did you have a good Yule?"

Startled, Hermione turned back to James, who was awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. She eyed him for a moment but then said, slowly, "Yeah. It was fine."

"And your parents? And - elder sister, right?"

Hermione nodded again. "They're good."

"And Lily?"

"She's good, too," answered Hermione, watching James nervously look around. "And how was your Yule, Potter?"

"What? Oh. Um, it was... good," he finished lamely.

Hermione snorted and he closed his eyes in mortification.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I don't know why it's so easy to talk to you at school but here-"

"It's fine," replied Hermione automatically, but at the word, she caught James's hazel eyes and then they were both laughing. The tense air around them diffused.

The grin James gave her was decidedly lopsided. Hermione felt her breath catch - it was exactly the same as Harry's bashful, genuine smile. Her eyes went wide.

"So, what do you say?"

"I'm sorry, what?" blinked Hermione, having missed what James said first.

His lopsided smile stretched, and he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "Want to dance?" he repeated.

Hermione looked at James, and then the packed pub floor where some had pushed tables and chairs aside for a makeshift dance floor.

"I-" she broke off and saw his face begin to fall and his chin duck down. "Okay."

His head popped up quickly, and that lopsided smile turned into a full grin. "Great! Okay! Right! Let's go!"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd, where others were moving back and forth to the upbeat song. They both stood frozen for a moment, and then someone bumped into James and he stumbled into Hermione and then they were laughing and he was shifting back and forth.

He was a _terrible_ dancer.

Hermione laughed loudly and then James was grinning at her. "What?" he shouted and then began swinging his arms back and forth in exaggerated moves to the upbeat disco beat. He did a little spin on his heels and she laughed again.

"You're ridiculous!" she shouted at him.

He wriggled his eyebrows and did another spin, his glasses nearly flying off his face as he went too fast. Hermione caught him as he stumbled to a stop, his hands coming up to rest on his glasses.

Somehow, they ended up remaining on the dance floor for a few more songs, James doing incredibly exaggerated, and sweeping steps that made people give them a wide berth, so Hermione followed along. She hadn't had this much fun dancing since the TriWizard tournament!

As the Hustle came on, James's eyebrows did another wriggle and then he was reaching for Hermione, his hand on hers and leading her through several perfect dance steps that were a mix of disco and the waltz.

There was a quick step, and then he turned her and they were back to back and she spun out again, laughing, until she was in front of him and he was behind her. She did the silliest move she remembered from television, dipping her finger across her body and up in the air while he did the same move behind her, but opposite.

They were gathering a crowd, and Hermione could spot the incredulous face of Regulus, staring at her with his mouth open. At his brother's side, Sirius had a drink and was cheering them on along with the crowd, throwing his arms up and catcalling.

When the song finished, Hermione breathlessly turned to James and said, "Thanks for that."

He grinned down at her, sweat beaded along his hairline. His fringe was sticking slightly to his forehead but the rest of his hair defied gravity and remained a mess. "For what?"

"Reminding me what fun is like," she said, then flushed thinking she said too much.

There was a softening in James's eyes, but before he could reply, Sirius came bounding to them, arms around James's shoulders, and then others were on the floor and she was dancing with James, Sirius, a Hufflepuff girl she didn't know too well, and the conversation was forgotten.

"COUNTDOWN TIME," shouted Diggory over the noise of the music, causing the crowd to cheer as they turned toward the bar where Diggory stood on top of it with Elliott Smith who had a bottle of something in one hand and a crown lopsided on his head as they led the countdown.

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

Hermione caught Regulus's eyes as he resignedly joined her near his brother, and she threw an arm around him, hugging him to her side. His grey eyes lightened in amusement and she shouted, "Where's Barry?"

"Toilets," he shouted back, with a grin. "Drank too much!"

Hermione shook her head fondly at the thought of her friend. "We'll rescue him soon."

Regulus nodded.

"FOUR! THREE! TWO!"

Then Sirius was there, pulling his brother to him and giving him a smacking kiss on his head as "ONE!" reverberated through the pub, with loud cheers and the blowing of kazoos. One very drunk wizard had confetti shoot from his wand, but the muggles were too drunk to notice where the falling paper was coming from.

Hermione hugged Regulus next, kissing him on the cheek as Sirius and James were pressed cheek to cheek and hugging. The crowd began singing Auld Lang Syne, and Hermione turned to James, ready to hug him too.

But the grinning Gryffindor had other plans, caught up in the exuberance of the atmosphere, and pulled Hermione towards him sharply.

He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth.

* * *

 **TBC...**


	7. What does the Future Look Like?

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

VII

* * *

"Even people capable of living in the past don't really know what the future holds."

\- _11/22/63_ , Stephen King

* * *

It was as everything froze. The ability to think, to breathe, to move. Hermione was still, unable to do _anything_ except inhale - the scent of peppermint, spice - and taste - ale - and feel - warm lips on hers.

Hermione opened her eyes, and stared straight into James' as he slowly pulled back from her. His eyelashes fluttered just a bit, and then -

His were wide, the hazel shine to them surprised by his actions; they reflected her own amber, both of them just _staring_ and unsure of what to do next. A light from a disco ball reflected off his glasses, and for the first time in a long time, Hermione didn't compare James to Harry - because quite honestly, Harry _never_ looked that baffled when staring at her.

His hands were warm on her back, and their stomachs were pressed together, their chests brushing against one another as they breathed. James's mouth opened, and he blinked, but he couldn't form any words.

In a moment, sound came rushing back and there was noise everywhere as people were cheering, singing, to Auld Lang Syne or to the lyrics of the next song that was playing as they ushered in 1976.

"Hermione - I -"

Then Sirius was there, tipsy, hooking an arm around James's shoulder and making him stumble back and away from her as he laughingly jeered, "Yeah, wrong Evans, mate!"

Hermione blinked - once - and then spun on her heel and pushed through the throng of sweaty people on their dance floor.

"Oi, what's her problem?"

James's eyes flicked to his friend, and there was a weak grin on his face as he chuckled, but it dropped quickly. He felt breathless and wasn't sure why. "Dunno. Hey - where's your brother?"

Sirius shrugged, eyes trailing to follow a girl in a short, short skirt. "Dunno. Lost him after I said Happy New Year."

"Listen, let's leave, yeah?" said James, reaching up and tugging at the collar of his stiff robes. He cleared his throat. He no longer felt comfortable in what he was wearing. "Let's head back to the Manor."

Sirius shrugged, but they left.

But he didn't feel like he could breathe when they were outside, either.

Strange.

* * *

Hermione pushed into the men's toilet, a single room occupied only by a very green Barty. He wearily looked up from where he was curled up around the toilet, his eyes beady. "'Mione?"

"Hey bestie," said Hermione, dropping to the floor next to him and smoothing his sweaty fringe from his forehead. He leaned into her cool hand. "You really did a number on yourself, didn't you?"

" _Mmm_ ," he moaned, turning back to point his face at the basin.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I don't think I'm going to be able to get you home this way. Maybe you should spend the night at Reggie's?"

Barty shook his head weakly. "His mum'll freak. He was supposed to be at the Greengrass's all evening. He's probably gone back anyway."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Well… there's nothing else for it then."

"... wha?"

"You're coming home with me tonight and we're going to sneak you in," declared Hermione. "Can you stand?"

Barty groaned but gamely wobbled to his feet with Hermione supporting him. Her best friend was tall and gangly and leaned heavily on her as they slowly stumbled forward. Before exiting the toilet, Hermione took advantage of the numerous wizards in the area to cast a mouth-freshening charm on Barty, as well as straightening his clothes and cleaning them of sweat.

It was hard, making their way through the crowd, but a rather amused - and drunk - Elliot Smith noticed them and helped Hermione by taking Barty's other side until they were around the back of the pub, near a large skip, to call the Knight Bus.

Barty managed to hold on to the contents of what was left in his stomach by the time they arrived in Cokeworth, near the mining quarry and well away from any NYE revellers in town. It was, however, some distance to the Evans household, past several winding lanes to the terraced estates, but Hermione was determined to get Barty there. Luckily, the air cleared Barty's nausea and by the time they made it to the nearest houses, he was only leaning on his friend as they walked.

It was only half an hour later when they were taking a slow walk past the town center. There were parties still going on in the three pubs in town, including the carvery and community center. Hermione and Barty blended right in with those standing outside smoking or laughing with their friends. They were just another drunk couple on their way home.

Except -

" _Hermione_?"

Hermione tensed and twisted, Barty swearing as he went with her. They came to a stop at ninety degrees from where they started, with Hermione staring with wide eyes at her eldest sister surrounded by several others.

Petunia was wearing a nice floral dress, tights, and a light cardigan, her arm looped through a tall, burly close-cropped blond who was looking at them quizzically. Around them were others, similar in height to the teen she was with and a few girls in sparkly dresses.

"Oh. _Heeeeeeeeey_ ," greeted Hermione, drawing out the vowel. "Tuney." She glanced at the building behind them and nearly sighed as she realized Petunia and her friends ditched their parents and Lily to visit the pub instead of remaining at the rec center.

"Who's this, Pet?" asked the tall blond, glancing between the two girls and the dopey Barty that hung off Hermione.

"Hey," greeted Barty, smiling widely in his usual, manic way. He extended a hand, although it was pointed more at the concrete than at the blond. "I'm Barty! Junior! I'm Hermione's _best_ friend!"

Petunia's eyebrows were hidden behind her fringe. "You know, when you said you were crashing a party with your friends, I really didn't think this was how the night would end."

Hermione shrugged but merely dislodged Barty, who grumbled. "Neither did I."

"Hey mate," the blond said, stepping from Petunia's side and helping take Barty off Hermione. "Where are you going?"

"Yes, 'Mione," drawled Petunia, crossing her arms and looking eerily like their mother. "Where _were_ you going?"

"Petunia, do you know these two?" one of the girls asked.

"This is my little sister and a friend of hers from her school," explained Petunia, sighing.

"The freaky one?" asked another girl, shocked. She squinted at Hermione from behind very thick eyelashes. "I thought she was ginger."

Petunia shook her head and Hermione stared hard at her sister.

"So where are we taking them?" asked the blond. He slightly jostled a still grinning Barty. "And this one, especially?"

"I was going to smuggle Barty into the house," finally admitted Hermione. " _Not_ my best plan, I will admit. He mixed his drinks and spent most of the night in the toilet."

The blond winced sympathetically.

"Blimey, mate," said the blond.

Petunia started saying goodbye to her friends, and the girls, who seemed not to care much for Lily by the sound of it, gave Hermione some cold, but polite, goodbyes as they paired off. The blond holding Barty remained, as did Petunia obviously.

"'Mione, you know he can't stay with us," said Petunia, looking at Barty again. For her first experience with a teenage wizard who wasn't Severus Snape, Petunia was handling herself well. "Why can't he go home?"

Hermione bit her lip. "His dad is really, _really_ high up in the government," she improvised with the non-magical equivalent. "He'd get into a lot of trouble, and when I suggested our other friends' house, we both decided that was not a good idea, given how traditional his mother is."

Petunia sighed.

"He can sleep things off at mine," suggested the blond, making Petunia turn to him in surprise. "Honestly, I don't mind, Pet. It is your little sister's best friend. I think I can trust him."

Petunia fretted. "Sean, that's very kind of you, but what if he -? If he -" she turned to Hermione and flapped her hands. "-uses _you know_?"

Sean's own eyebrows jumped up. " _You know_?" he echoed in disbelief.

Hermione snorted. "I think he's going to sleep and then eat a lot. He's not in his right mind for anything else, Tuney, and Barty's in the same house as me. He's very smart."

Barty turned to Hermione, lolling his head on Sean's shoulder as he beamed at her. "I love you, too, 'Mione!"

Hermione reached over and patted Barty's cheek affectionately.

Petunia's eyes moved between the two, a calculating look at her, but she slowly nodded. Turning to her boyfriend, whom Hermione could now put a face to the name, she asked, "Are you sure, Sean?"

He nodded.

"Alright then," she replied, standing on her toes to kiss her boyfriend's cheek, whispering her goodbyes.

Then, Sean was turning to Hermione with Barty facing her too and grinning. "Nice to meet you, Hermione! I promise I'll take care of this one and bring 'im by tomorrow. Probably for lunch."

"Thanks." Hermione tried not to grin as Barty perked up and muttered, "Food?"

Hermione and Petunia watched as Sean dragged an enthusiastic Barty from the pub and in the opposite direction of where they lived, expertly drawing Barty's attention away from the neon signs in shop windows or very Muggle things.

Once they turned the corner, Petunia turned to her sister. "How were you planning on getting back into the house? Everyone thinks you're still there."

"The front door's lock can be jimmied," replied Hermione nonchalantly. "I learned how to pick it years ago. No one really questioned where I would disappear off to, and sometimes mum or Lily would lock the door forgetting I was at the library, or the rec center, or in the park. So I learned to make do."

Something flashed across Petunia's face, but it was gone quickly. "Well let's go back now. If someone asks, you stepped out for a walk and we bumped into each other."

They were silent for some time, Petunia hugging herself to keep warm. Eventually, Hermione demurred, "I'm sorry we interrupted your evening with Sean and your friends."

Petunia waved a very thin hand at her sister. "It's fine. I'm seeing Sean tomorrow anyway." She paused and glanced at Hermione, saying, "Besides, you're my sister. You come first."

"It didn't _quite_ sound that way with regards to Lily," Hermione said quietly. She kept her tone light and nonjudgmental to see how Petunia would respond. "I'm not blind to how you two fight."

Petunia's mouth flattened into a thin line. "My… disagreement with Lily doesn't really have to do with you."

"So what is it?" asked a curious Hermione, who had kept out of much of the fights in her earlier years by just not physically being around her family as much as she could - at home or at Hogwarts. She often felt like an interloper in this new time. "Is it… about Hogwarts?"

Petunia sighed, hugging herself tighter and hunching a bit. It took Hermione a moment to realize how tall and willowy Petunia was, and wondered if her self-conscious sister even realized she could probably model if she wanted.

"A little bit," admitted the eldest Evans child. "And not really."

Hermione waited for Petunia to continue, which she eventually did.

"I had this… this entire idea in my mind that we would all go to secondary together. I would be a guide for you and Lily, having already gone through everything," she said quietly, green eyes down on the ground. "Isn't that the purpose of a big sister? To guide you? To protect you? To be there for her little sisters, no matter what?"

She shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing a bit. "I feel like not only did _I_ miss out on doing all those big sister things I had planned with you and Lily, but I was cheated out of it with magic. Both of you have the abilities and spend your time together at - _that_ school - and I can't be there. I can't help you with homework, or with boys, or the social pecking order. So what good am I?"

Hermione blinked in shock. _I never knew-!_

"And then _precious Lily_ comes home, and it's all about how amazing she's doing, who her friends are, and the pranks played on her by this," Petunia affected her voice, " _super cool and popular sport player_ that she apparently can't stand because he bullies that Snape boy - and I - I -" she broke off, shrugging bitterly. "Where's my place in Lily's life? In your life?"

"Well," said Hermione slowly as she absorbed this new information in shock. "If it makes you feel any better, I rarely see or speak to Lily at school."

Petunia actually stopped walking to stare at her. "Wait - what?"

Hermione shrugged. "We're in different houses. I think she explained it once before? Yeah, anyway - I'm in Ravenclaw and she's in Gryffindor and has all these friends while I just keep to myself or hang out with Barty and Reggie. I also skipped like, three years in two courses, so that hardly made friends when you're a fourteen-year-old surrounded by seventeen-year-olds."

"But," sputtered Petunia as they started walking again, "Don't you have those - civvies days? In town?"

"Which I spend at the castle, doing my own research while Lily goes on dates," answered Hermione in a very matter-of-fact voice.

"Doesn't she try to sit with you at meals? Or you with her? Surely there are no rules against _that_?"

"Maybe once in a while she comes over, but honestly I think most people don't realize we're related. After all, I don't look like her."

Petunia snorted - and the sound, so unladylike, had Hermione staring at her. "Oh please, don't look at me like that. _None_ of us looks anything alike in terms of hair colour. Both of us have the curls, but Lily doesn't; Lily and I share mother's eyes, but you have father's. You and Lily have magic, and I don't. And all three of us have different hair colours." She squinted and sniffed. "But you do have some red in yours, I suppose."

"Erm. Thanks?"

They had reached their street, and with certain daintiness, Petunia pulled out their keys from her purse. Before they went in, Petunia stopped Hermione by grabbing onto her upper arm and holding on.

"I was never upset with you," she said, strongly enough that Hermione started.

"I never thought-"

"I know you didn't like how I treated Lily," said Petunia, her mouth twisting. "Calling her a freak and ignoring her."

Hermione squirmed a bit in her sister's grip. "Well, it wasn't very nice-"

"I know," snapped Petunia. Then she sighed. "I _know_. It's hard enough dealing with my own jealousy and unhappiness and then seeing her come back so happy about that - that _place_ and going on about that boy-"

 _Snape?_ wondered Hermione.

"-but she also took you away. I guess I always thought that she was doing what _I_ wanted to do for you both at Hogwarts." Petunia's eyes shifted away. "But I saw you this holiday - how you acted, and how she acted." Petunia looked at Hermione. "Does she even know you at all?"

 _Do any of you?_ thought Hermione, slightly uncharitably. When had they all given up on her? On knowing their daughter, their sister? Why did it bother her _now_? She had pushed them all away first.

But - _but_ \- a tiny voice in her head went: _Barty and Regulus stood by your side and pushed through. Why didn't they?_

"I'm sorry," said Petunia, breaking into Hermione's thoughts. Her head jerked up in surprise to see Petunia's toying with the key. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better sister."

"So am I," replied Hermione quietly.

Petunia's lips slowly turned up in a gentle smile. "New year, new us?"

Hermione's smile matched hers. "New year," she agreed, "new us."

* * *

Barty made it home safely the following day, beginning 1976 with a wicked hangover that he couldn't explain away to his mother or her knowing stare. Luckily, his father had been out, dealing with the fallout of some very drunk wizards and Muggle-baiting, he wrote to Hermione, that he never knew that his son wasn't even home for New Years.

Regulus had also made it home safely, citing that he skipped out on the Greengrass's early to his mother's displeasure, while Sirius kept silent and merely stared at his younger brother as if he had never seen him before. (Regulus wrote that every so often, Sirius would waggle his eyebrows at him from behind their mother's back, like they shared some amazing secret. The younger Black was thoroughly fed up.)

The winter term for Hogwarts began on a chilly January with frosted windows and a bitter, Arctic wind that kept students inside their common rooms, huddled near the fireplaces - except for Hermione. It was Friday, and she and James had a study date. OWLs were only five months away!

Hermione was set up, tapping her quill impatiently. Potter had never been late since their first tutoring session, so she was mildly concerned and annoyed.

Finally, he swept in; his hair in disarray and heavily sat in the seat across from her in their tiny nook. "Merlin, I am _so sorry_ -" he blushed and fluffed up his hair some more. "Things were - I wasn't sure - it's been -"

Hermione stared. "Are you _blushing_? Did my sister finally say yes to a date or something?"

His flush deepened. "I - ah - no -"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Alright…" she then pulled out and flipped her Arithmancy text to the correct chapter, and extended her hand over the table towards James, her palm up as she made 'gimme' motions with her hand.

He stared at her hand for a long moment.

" _Merlin_ , Potter," said Hermione exasperatedly, "What is _with_ you? Your homework? From Yule break?"

His hazel eyes snapped up to hers and widened behind his glasses.

"Oh! Yes! Right!" he then scrambled to turn in the seat to check his shoulder bag and began pulling out bits and bobs and putting them on the table while Hermione's incredulous stare made her eyes grow wide.

"Potter."

He immediately paused.

"Your homework?"

He cleared his throat and finally pulled out his textbook, with the homework in between the cover and first page. Although she was unsure what was going with him, she squinted and frowned, and then resolved to ignore it, going over his past homework and notes.

Across from her, Potter fidgeted, twisting his fingers around, bringing his wand out and tapping it on the table, and then eventually pulling a snitch from his bag and tossing it in the air and catching it before it zipped down one of the aisles.

The glint of the snitch caught Hermione's attention as she finished checking his homework, and she glanced up. He wasn't even paying her attention, just focused on absently catching the snitch while his thoughts turned inward. There was a small smile on his face.

 _How many times have I heard Lily complain about him playing with "that stupid snitch" at home? He must be thinking of her_ , thought Hermione, rolling her eyes. She dropped her quill and nonverbally had her homework neatly roll up, flying over towards him.

He jumped at the scroll rested on his open textbook, glancing down at it and then back at her. "How - how did I do?"

Hermione felt a true, and fond, smile creep onto her lips. "Well, I think you'll do just acceptable, Potter."

He looked horrified. "An _A_? That's it after all the work we've put into this?"

"For your OWL? Yeah," answered Hermione. "But if we keep this up? By May? I can see you getting an O."

" _Really_?" a grin split his face, and his eyes sparkled. He put the snitch into his bag and leaned across the table.

"Really," nodded Hermione. "I think we can call tonight to an end, and start up with your fifth-year material next week."

"I-" he broke off, his grin turning lopsided. He stood, shoving his homework into his bag, along with his text. "Thank you, Hermione! I couldn't' do this without you!"

Hermione stood too, shrugging her shoulders. "You're doing all the hard work, Potter, take some credit."

Without realizing it, he stepped forward and hugged her tightly. Hermione stiffened in shock, arms at her sides and eyes wide. He felt her response and stepped back, running a hand through his hair.

"Merlin - I'm sorry -" and he truly was, as he looked down in frustration and stepped further back.

Hermione cleared her throat and choked out, "Yeah, it's fine-"

"No, it's not-" he was red again.

Hermione stopped and peered at him, watching his body language as he shifted from foot to foot, his blush extending up to redden his ears. Suddenly, his behaviour was making sense. "Potter - is this about New Years?"

His face went as red as his Gryffindor jumper.

She sighed. "Look - it was - it meant nothing, right? You fancy my sister, everyone knows that. Like Sirius said - wrong Evans. It's totally cool." She even waved a hand to illustrate how nonchalant she was about having her first kiss in this time by him. Not like _he_ knew that.

Something in Potter stilled as she spoke, and his blush receded a bit. "Erm. Yes. Yes - that's right. Lily. Lily Evans, that is."

"Cool," replied Hermione. She picked up her school bag and slung it over her shoulder. "In that case, I'm heading out. Got other things to do. See you around, Potter."

"Yeah, see you, Hermione," he croaked out.

* * *

Two weeks later, as January came to a close, and Hermione read a letter from Petunia (… _I'm thinking London, but it's so far away, isn't it? Do you think mummy and daddy will let me go? I think this is what I really want to do and pursue…),_ Lily stopped by the Ravenclaw table at dinner.

"Hey Hermy," she greeted, sliding onto the bench.

"No," replied Hermione, not looking up from the letter while Barty's slid back and forth, absently mixing his mash and peas into one lumpy pile.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!" the Gryffindor protested.

Hermione glanced up this time. "I won't do anything anyway if you're going to call me 'Hermy.'"

Lily sighed. "Fine. Sorry. Anyway - I wanted to ask you a question."

"Is it about school?" asked Hermione, frowning. "Because you're a year ahead of me. I really don't think I can help you unless it's in seventh-year material for Arithmancy or Charms, the latter which you're practically a savant in."

"No - it's not -"

"Then is it about - you know - something personal?" Hermione's eyes slid to the Gryffindor table. "Because I think Marlene or Mary would be better to ask about things like that."

Lily scowled. " _No_ , it's -"

"Have mum or dad sent an owl? Tuney's been pretty consistent in writing me this term, but she didn't mention anything…"

"No, it's not mum and dad - wait," surprise flitted across Lily's face. " _Tuney's_ writing you?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Yeah. Don't you write to her? She's not bad in replying quickly."

"What? She _does_? I mean - no, I haven't written her in years -" Lily shook her head. "Ugh, stop trying to change the topic. I'm trying to ask you about Potter!"

Barty choked on his roast.

" _Potter?_ " replied Hermione incredulously, snapping her book shut and staring at Lily in surprise. "What about him? I thought you can't stand him."

"I _can't_ ," emphasized Lily strongly, ducking her head a bit to stare at her sister. Hermione felt riveted in her sister's emerald eyes. "But - you are still tutoring him weekly, right?"

Hermione slowly nodded.

"Right, right. So… have you noticed… anything... _weird_ with him lately?" continued Lily.

Hermione frowned. "Weird, how?"

Lily sighed, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. It gleamed in the candlelight. "I'm not sure. But - something's changed. I can't put my finger on it. I just thought you'd notice and know since you see him often."

"He's in _your_ house," pointed out Barty acidly. "You see him more than she does."

Lily pursed her lips, turning away from Barty to face Hermione instead. "Look, can you just - I don't know - keep an eye out?" her eyes narrowed. "I bet he's planning something big on the Slytherins sometime soon."

"Erm," began Hermione, sharing a look with Barty who then rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure he's not - but yeah… sure…"

"Great!" Lily's mood changed from her deep scowl to a bright smile. She leaned forward and bussed Hermione on the cheek, leaving the Ravenclaw table as quickly as she arrived. "Thanks, Hermy!"

Hermione scowled this time. " _Not. Hermy._ "

She was silent, staring at her plate for several long moments before Barty asked, "What was the purpose in that?"

Frowning, Hermione turned partially in her seat to glance over her shoulder at the Gryffindor table; while she normally had her back to them, opting to face Slytherin and Regulus at his table, both she and Barty were keenly aware of the Marauders at meal times in case of unfortunate pranks.

The four were clustered together, whispering and laughing as they ate dinner. Sirius was animated, waving his hands around as he used a fork to demonstrate something. Pettigrew was hanging on the Black heir's every word, while Lupin interjected something that made Potter snort and laugh, banging his hand on the table.

 _What is Lily on about? There's nothing different with Potter,_ she thought, eyes narrowed.

As if hearing her thoughts, Potter looked up and caught her eyes. He grinned, mouthing, " _Alright?_ " to her.

She nodded.

Holding her gaze, his grin widened, and he reached up and ran a hand through his hair, making it messier than before. Then, he turned back to his friends, and Hermione turned around to face the proper way on their table.

"I think I should take my sister to the hospital wing," said Hermione to Barty, shaking her head. "Clearly, Lily is losing her mind." _The stress of OWLs was getting to her._

Barty was silent, eyes flickering between the Gryffindor table and her, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"Yeah…" he agreed slowly. "Sure."

But Hermione put it out of her mind. She had other things to worry about.

* * *

 **Note** : thanks to the guest for the best Sirius response to the kiss! It was perfect so I had to use it.

To the other guest who asked about Horcruxes and Voldemort – currently, Hermione's in a 14-year-old body while her mind is in its 40s. She's not equipped to go out and fight, and until recently, she wasn't even sure if she _should_. However, her exploration into transmutation will play an important role later in the story, especially in regards to Voldemort, Death Eaters, prophecies, and Horcruxes. :)

 **[Aug 22 edit]** A guest noticed that in earlier chapters I mentioned James only took Arithmancy because Lily was, so I've edited this chapter accordingly.


	8. Heavy is the Future

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

VIII

* * *

 **Doc** : This is more serious than I thought. Apparently, your mother is amorously infatuated with you instead of your father.

 **Marty** : Whoa, wait a minute, Doc. Are you trying to tell me that my mother has got the hots for me?

 **Doc** : Precisely!

 **Marty** : Whoa, this is heavy.

 **Doc** : There's that word again: " _heavy_." Why are things so heavy in the future? Is there a problem with the Earth's gravitational pull?

\- _Back to the Future_ (1985)

* * *

Like most Januarys straight through to June, time passed quickly - so much so that the entire five months disappeared in a blink. One moment, Hermione was studying in the library for her upcoming NEWT exams in Arithmancy and Charms, her two favourite classes, spending time with Barty and Regulus, researching and practicing her own form of transmutation and wandless magic, and tutoring Potter in Arithmancy.

After her breakthrough with the flower, Hermione found herself back in the Room of Requirements with her (fake) Harry watching her curiously, as she paced, muttering to herself under her breath as her brain jumped from one idea to the next, her synapses firing hotly.

Her understanding of transmutation was growing rapidly. She was far beyond her research back in her future - alternate timeline? - which made a part of her squirm in happiness, and the rest made her annoyed at the slow progression.

"I think you're over thinking this," said Harry. His image flickered for a moment, and then he was no longer standing, watching her placidly, but sitting on what looked like a replica of a Gryffindor armchair - one she was familiar with, in her other life, and its placement by the fire and in which she and her friends would often congregate around.

"I thought we agreed that I'm the brains of this operation," muttered Hermione, tugging on a curl. Her eyes cut to her friend.

Harry sighed. "You're frustrated with your lack of advancement. I understand that."

" _Because you're me_ ," muttered Hermione darkly.

Harry blithely ignored her. "Let's break it down, shall we? When you're stuck, and you don't know what to do next - what do you do, Hermione?"

Hermione stopped pacing, turned to Harry, and together they said, "We break it down into smaller parts."

He grinned at her, and she felt her lips quirking up into a smile, too.

With a sigh, she bounded over to him in his chair. An identical one popped into existence opposite him, and Hermione slid in it as the room shifted from a large white space to an eerie replica of the Gryffindor Common Room from their time, right down to the scorch marks Seamus left after another failed water-into-wine attempt.

"So," began not-Harry, leaning forward in his seat as his ankle crossed over the opposite knee and he steeped his fingertips together. "Basics. Begin with that. What do you know about magic?"

Hermione sighed at the simplicity - and complexity - of the question. "Magic is a form of energy that each witch or wizard has."

"Very _Star Wars_ ," replied Harry, a mocking glint in his eyes behind his frames. He warped between fourteen-year-old him and the much older forty-something Hermione knew him as, grey at his temples.

"Shut up."

"Is that what magic really is, though?"

Hermione frowned. "I… guess not."

"Is it merely just in magical folk?" continued Harry.

"Well… isn't it?" replied back Hermione. "We use magic, we cast spells. They dissipate once the magic is used up because it completes its purpose."

"Yes," agreed Harry, "But of our school? This Room? Permanent magic? Is it because it has been soaked up over countless years?"

Hermione frowned. She reached up and began playing with a curl. "No… I don't think so."

"So magic has some sort of permanence," continued Harry. "That's the difference between transfiguration and transmutation, right?"

"Yes," nodded Hermione, speaking slowly. "Transfiguration is the changing of one thing to another for a temporary state because it remains in its original form at the molecular level despite the outward physical changes. Transmutation is the changing of one thing into another _completely_ where it is changed from one state of being to another."

"And if that's the case, the magic can't _just_ come from the witch or wizard casting it, can it?" asked a smug Harry as he leaned back.

Hermione blinked. "No. No, it can't."

"Because magic from a witch or wizard would dissipate after a while," continued Harry.

"Which means there is ambient magic!" grinned Hermione, to which Harry nodded. Then, Hermione's grin slid slowly into a resting face as she thought. "But… where is the magic coming from?"

"Think about it," urged Harry. "Think of moments of great magic - monuments, buildings, rooms. Objects of power. Feats of strength."

So Hermione turned her thoughts inward and thought of what Harry requested of her. She thought first of the Room of Requirement, as it was the easiest given she was currently using it. The history of the Room was unknown - but potentially one of the Hogwarts founders had created it, using Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, and other work. The magic itself should have faded over time, but Hogwarts - by extension - soaked up ambient magic over the centuries until the Room became mildly sentient. That suggested that magic had its own ideas and behaved beyond its Arithmetic and Runic formulations.

Another example of semi-sentient magic was the Goblet of Fire; an object of power that was used to bind Harry in the TriWizard Tournament. Hermione drew back to the moment of Harry's name being called and frowned.

Her eyes slipped closed, and her brow furrowed. She could picture the Great Hall perfectly: the bobbing and dipping of the floating candles above her that Halloween, the shadows dancing on the edges of the hall, as they grew longer. The bright, vibrant colour of Dumbledore's robes as he spread his arms and began calling out familiar names of people she knew well; and when he read Harry's, she waited for the familiar shock and horror to spread through her, as the memory always prompted.

It failed to arrive.

Her frown deepened into a scowl. _I distinctly remember my look of shock and horror that Harry's name came out of the Goblet. So why aren't I getting the echoes of those feelings?_

She then thought of later that night, Ron's jealousy, her incredulity toward Ron and the situation, even Harry's bitterness and her fear for him. She could _remember_ having felt the emotions, but as she squished her eyes shut tight, nearly vibrating with intensity at trying to remember those moments, she could not muster the emotional connection.

"What…" her eyes popped open and she looked at a rather somber Harry across from her. "What is happening to my memories?"

"It's like you said - they're memories," the room-supplied Harry answered, his voice slightly flat and monotone. "Memories of a different time. Of a different you."

"Those memories _made me_!" snarled Hermione. "Did you - did the magic that brought me here - did it take those from me?!"

"I did not," replied Harry, in that same flat tone.

 _This is not me supplying the room now,_ thought Hermione, eyeing the new Harry carefully. This was something older… stronger, than what she mustered up as her sounding board and conscience.

The Room continued. "You experienced a significant trauma, one that involved magic at its most pure. It brought you here. Here, where you can do the most. For the people, the timeline as you know it. But you cannot do that with your emotional attachments."

Hermione bristled. _Emotional attachments?!_

Sensing her thoughts, the Room supplied, "Yes, your memories make you who you are, Hermione Granger/Hermione Evans-" it was like the two names were said at once, mangling her last name, layered with a strange dual, vibrating tone "-and those cannot be taken from you. But the trauma you experienced as a child while here at Hogwarts, and during your War, can be."

"You - You did what?" asked a flabbergasted Hermione, eyes wide and mouth open.

"I did not." The reply was flat and strange but slightly affronted. "I am just another vessel."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "To what purpose was the removal of my emotions to those memories?" Fear made her eyes widen. "Will I- will I begin to forget my feelings for Harry and Ron? Ginny? George? The Weasleys, or Andromeda or Teddy? Will they stop having meaning in my life?"

"They will not. They _should_ not," the Room replied, gently as its monotone voice softened. "They are a part of you, no matter when you are. You will just be removed from the emotions to ensure you are not crippled by them now."

At Hermione's blank stare, the Room-Harry sighed. "You must live more in the present; immerse yourself here and in the now. Not in your past and their future. That time is gone. Your yesterdays are to be your tomorrows - what has happened once may not happen again. Or it might. Time is not a straight line."

"I'm well aware of how time travel works, thank you," snipped Hermione.

"Are you?" that Harry raised his eyebrows in a condescending manner and Hermione wrinkled her nose. "If you are, then how did you come to be here, not as Hermione Granger, but as Hermione Evans?"

"I-" Hermione snapped her mouth shut. _Okay, so I don't have an answer to that._

Not-Harry looked knowingly at her, and then his face… softened from its edges and the blank look he wore turned back into the slightly impish one she remembered.

"Did you think of them? What did those feats of magic and objects of power help you conclude?" he asked, as though the past ten minutes never happened.

Hermione cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably in the chair as she realized she was quite literally in the belly of one such place of power. Awkwardly, she said, "Yeah. I think I understand."

Room- and memory-supplied Harry beamed at her. "Brilliant. So your conclusion is…?"

 _This place is fucking weird, and I will never fully understand magic,_ thought a grim Hermione, but she gamely replied, "Magic is everywhere. In everything. It's about _access_."

"And understanding," nodded Harry in agreement. "You _understand_ the structure of objects and spells, Hermione - to _access_ it you just need something… more."

"But how does one access magic?"

Hermione stood from the chair and the room morphed again, from the Gryffindor Common room to a generic white room, but with columns running the length of it. Hermione eyed them in confusion and then turned to Harry.

"What do you think you need to _alter_ things, Hermione?"

"I need…" she murmured, closing her eyes and picturing the room in her mind, the columns specifically. She could feel her magic floating and tingling around and in her; she could feel the faint buzz and the slightly metallic taste to the magic in the air from the Room of Requirements. How did she get her magic to interact with the ambient magic?

Apparition was about the three D's: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. Magic itself in spell casting was about Determination and Deliberation. Could she determine what she wanted and then deliberately focus on altering the structure?

Gamely, Hermione gathered her magic and reached out with her senses, her memory of the room, and her visual representation. She focused on a nearby column, learning its shape, its features, its construction makeup. Once she felt like she knew it intimately, she took a deep breath and pushed, nudging her magic up against it.

It hit the column like a wave crashing against a wall, breaking and barely affecting it.

Vaguely, she heard Harry chuckle.

Frowning, she tried again, and the same result happened: her magic crashed and then slid back, oil and water mixing and separating, never quite mingling together to help get her where she wanted to go without creating the rune- and Arithmancy-based transmutation circles.

"What am I missing?" she muttered, opening her eyes and squinting.

"Stop trying to browbeat it," suggested Harry. "Are you always able to do a spell by forcing it to happen? Magic, especially strong magic, is finicky. Sure, strong emotion may cast a Patronus, but the more delicate the end result, the more precise you need to be. It takes a deft hand. Try that."

 _Deft and delicate hand_ , thought Hermione, absently nodding. _Yeah, I can do that_.

She pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, shook her limbs out, and closed her eyes once more. This time, instead of pushing her magic against the columns, she let her magic sidle up to it, tentative and friendly. The ambient magic of the Room curiously nudged back, and Hermione bit back a grin.

Her magic began to settle on top of the Room's, as a comforting blanket under it enveloped the ambient magic. Soon, the two were mingling and Hermione felt an immediate head rush as her senses grew and expanded. With a firm image of what she wanted to columns to look like, she gently sent it to her magic, which queried it to the ambient magic.

There was a tingle on her fingertips and the room crackled with electricity, and she opened her eyes.

Her breath caught.

Instead of a white room with white columns, there were four elaborate statues of the four founders holding up the room, in colour with textured marble to mimic the fabric of their robes. Their faces were expressive, works of Roman and Grecian art, in poses of power and memory: Ravenclaw with her wand out and scrolls and an eagle perched on her outstretched hand and a stern visage as she stared out at her female counterpart; Hufflepuff, with vines creeping up her legs and coiling around her arms like a lover's embrace from behind, her face alight with a kind smile and clever eyes.

Slytherin and Gryffindor faced each other, Gryffindor in a knight's pose with his large, long broadsword tip-down and in front of him. His hair was free and flowing and she blushed slightly realizing she took the stern, square face and jaw from a muggle romance novel cover. But his face was solemn and serious, and he wore it nobly.

Slytherin, on the other hand, was movement personified with his robes flowing long and out behind him, arms outstretched and in the midst of some powerful magic. His hair was bound back, long and silky, and his eyes fierce and expressive as he controlled the world around him through his magic.

They were breathtaking.

 _She had done that_.

Behind her, Harry clapped, and she whirled, still taken aback by the power she wielded. But the image of Harry flickered, from fourteen to forty, and back, and his voice was that of the room's when it said, "Oh, well done. Well done, indeed Hermione Granger/Evans."

A shiver shot down Hermione's spine.

"I think we can expect great things from you," it continued, in that strange, dual-layered voice that was leaden with power and something _other_.

Hermione swallowed thickly and bowed her head in thanks. "I hope to live up to your expectations."

The Room's Harry gave her a fond if not exasperated smile. "Hermione Granger/Evans, if I did not think you were worth it, you would not be here."

And at that strange pronouncement, Hermione gave a tight smile and tried to desperately think that _that_ didn't sound like prophecy, at all.

* * *

It began simply, with a single question, during breakfast in February.

Sirius, rumpled with sleep and bleary-eyed, wandered into the Great Hall and slumped into his usual seat at James's side, absently reaching for the coffee that Hogsmeade-trip morning.

Remus, opposite them with an empty space for where Peter sat, didn't even look up from his newspaper - he has his Daily Prophet ordered and read before most of the Gryffindors came down to the table - as Sirius's behaviour was typical.

As the table began to fill, Sirius, slowly waking up, took the time to survey the hall, looking for the next girl he'd ask out as his date for the evening. He skipped over the Slytherins - _but there's Reg, buttering up some toast, looking rather smug. Hmm. Maybe that Calypso finally gave him the time of day._

He then jotted his eyes over to the Hufflepuff table, looking and easily finding the girls Reg's mate Crouch had inadvertently insulted at the New Year's party.

Both girls caught his eye and both blushed very red, fluttered their eyelashes at him, and giggled. He winced and quickly turned his back on the Hufflepuff table, which had him facing the rest of the Gryffindors, and, incidentally, the fifth year girls.

 _I can't ask Marlene again,_ he thought mulishly. _I've already asked her twice this year and any more and people will start to think we're going steady. And Alice is dating Frank Longbottom - now_ that's _a big guy I don't want to be in a fight against. And Phoebe Robinson is… well… how she ended up in Gryffindor I'll never know._

 _And of course, then there's Lily. Who is untouchable, because James will loudly and verbally stake his claim, like clockwork._

Sirius frowned, and mentally went over what he just thought.

 _Stake his claim. Loudly and verbally. Clockwork_.

Sirius's frown deepened and he turned to look at his best friend. James was in the middle of a conversation with Remus, an animated one by the sound of it, and by the glean in his eyes.

"-thinking that maybe we could use Poincaré theory," said James.

Remus nodded slowly. "I don't take Arithmancy, but I've heard it used before…" He frowned.

"The theory is the basis of chaos theory," explained James, his voice rising in enthusiasm as his hands moved around, too. "It deals with bodies in motion and, when people are affected, how their behaviours change and alter accordingly."  
Sirius, who was doing quite well in Arithmancy, frowned. Because that was a perfect, if not paraphrased, answer.

"You need to use a dynamical system to explore the variables," the black-haired Potter explained, drawing an oval in the air with a finger. "Hermione explained it to me the other week - said it would be great if I knew all the variables in planning something with multiple reference points to ensure optimal results -"

 _Hermione?_ Sirius blinked. _Hermione_ Evans?

He looked around the Great Hall again, spotting Lily laughing and talking with her dorm mates, flipping her red hair over her shoulder in response to something one said.

He then pulled out his pocket watch - a birthday gift from his father that he actually treasured, not that he'd tell anyone that - and realized that breakfast was almost over. Sirius looked back at James, who hadn't even mentioned _Lily_ yet, for the forty minutes they'd been sitting at the table together.

Concerned, Sirius leaned over and placed a hand on James's forehead.

Sputtering, James broke off his explanation of dynamic systems and leaned away from Sirius. "Padfoot! What the hell!"

Sirius leaned closer, peering into James's hazel eyes. "You're ill, aren't you?"

"What? No!"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you are."

"I am _not_ ," retorted James, shoving Sirius's hand out of his face. He turned to Remus. "Tell him, Moony! I'm perfectly fine."

"I have to agree with James, Sirius." Remus picked up the mug of tea in front of him and frowned at both of them from over the top of its lip. "Why do you think he's ill?"

Sirius stared blankly at his two friends, looking at them back and forth. Remus's expression was rather placid - like he was humouring Sirius - while James' chin had a stubborn tilt to it. "You - You don't realize?"

"Realize _what_?" asked a rather irate James.

"You haven't spoken to Lily since she came down to breakfast," said Sirius, completely flabbergasted at the idea.

Then - James looked surprised like he hadn't even realized. Remus, on the other hand, shifted his eyes from Sirius to James, and then narrowed them thoughtfully as they all, in one smooth movement, turned to look down the Gryffindor table toward Lily Evans.

Obviously, she felt their eyes on her - from her magic prickling a warning, perhaps - because she stiffened and then slowly turned in her seat, green eyes flashing angrily as she met theirs. She glowered, and the thought of _what are they up to?_ passed over her face, easily read.

Remus smiled; Sirius waved, and James reached up to ruffle his already wild hair.

Lily's scowl deepened.

"Say - Lily -" began James, pitching his voice so that she could hear him over the din of the Great Hall and the other students between their seats at the Gryffindor table.

"No." The girl in question snapped out and then turned around, ignoring the Marauders completely.

Sirius waited patiently for the follow-up, his eyes still on Lily. He waited for several, long seconds, before realizing that James had gone back to his conversation with Remus.

"Wait - _what_?"

"What what?" asked James, his voice still dripping with some annoyance at the second interruption in his conversation with their werewolf friend.

Sirius blinked. "Aren't you going to continue to ask Evans out? Like… jump on the table? Shout something at her? Enchant the toast to serenade her?"

From behind his glasses, James stared at Sirius. "She said no. Why would I ask her again?"

Remus dropped his mug, sending it crashing onto his plate. What remained of his tea sloshed everywhere, including over his leftover scrambled eggs and sausages. Luckily, the noise was swallowed by the ambient noise from the rest of the students, so no one noticed, but between the three friends, it was as loud as a cannon blast.

Wide eyed, Remus said, "Because her saying no never stopped you before."

James shrugged.

The two were still staring at him when Peter breathlessly slid into his spot next to Remus. The thin teen glanced between the three and asked, "What did I miss?"

And without a lick of humour, Sirius replied, "The world ending."

* * *

It continued on Valentine's Day, or rather the lead up on the night before, when the boys were in their dorm room. James was on his bed, absently tossing a snitch in the air and catching it as he lay back and stared up at the red canopy of his poster bed, ankles crossed. Remus was opposite him, sitting cross-legged on his bed, and chewing on the end of a sugar quill as he edited a nervous Peter's essay.

Sirius entered the room with fanfare: the door swung on well-oiled hinges and banged against the stone wall behind, slamming hard into it and bouncing back toward the Black heir. He quickly sidestepped the door and let it slam shut behind him.

"Gentlemen! Marauders! Friends!" enthused Sirius as he strode forward, arms spread wide. "Who is the sexiest fifth year there is?"

"Are we supposed to answer that or is it rhetorical?" asked Remus, not looking up from the essay. Peter, sitting on his bed, brought a hand up and nervously chewed on a hangnail.

"Rhetorical, Moony," replied Sirius, launching himself onto his bed and bouncing a bit on it. "Because the answer is _me_ , of course."

"Of course," echoed Remus sarcastically.

Sirius tossed his curls and, propping himself up on an elbow as he lounge, one leg bent up, he turned toward James. "Oi, mate - what's with you? Evans turn you down as your Valentine date?"

"Evans?" James glanced over. "Oh - you mean Lily. No."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean _no_? You did ask her right? Because Jimmy - if you didn't - I'd begin to think something's wrong."

James sighed. "Of _course_ I asked her out, Padfoot." He sat up, caught the snitch, and summoned its lockbox. He placed it in it, firmly shutting the fluttering gold ball in it, and then turned to his best friend. "And of course she said no. As usual."

"So why the long face?" asked Sirius.

James ran a hand through his hair, and Sirius glanced at Remus, who shrugged at the nervous gesture. He didn't know what was wrong, either.

"It's just - well - it'll sound silly," hedged James.

"I doubt that," piped up Peter, giving an encouraging smile to their leader and friend. "I often think I'll do something silly but you always tell me that's not true, and then I do it or say it, and things turn out fine, Prongs."

James sent a weak smile in return. "Thanks, Pete."

" _So_ …?" drawled Sirius.

"I was just thinking," began James, shifting uncomfortably on his bed as three sets of eyes focused intently on him. "As a thank you, maybe I could get something for Hermione? She's been very kind and thoughtful since the school year began, helping me with Arithmancy. I'd never have caught up to the fifth year material if it weren't for her."

Remus's eyes narrowed.

"You want to get her a gift?" asked Peter in confirmation, scrunching his face up. "Like… a thank you gift?"

James nodded. "I haven't yet - and I'm doing really well, she even said so herself. So I thought it would be a nice gesture."

"Yeah, but…" Sirius trailed off. "It's Valentine's, mate. Don't you think she'd get the wrong idea?"

"The wrong idea?" echoed James, looking completely befuddled with his wide eyes.

"Yeah…" Sirius looked around the room, for Remus and Peter to back him up. "You know? Valentine's Day? Gifts? Girls?"

Understanding dawned on James's face, and then it just a quickly shuttered behind something and his face went blank. "Don't be daft. Hermione's a _friend_ , Padfoot."

And that was the end of that conversation.

(Yet, when Valentine's Day approached, Sirius kept his eyes open and peeled but James never once went over to Hermione Evans during meal times; he stuck to his friend like a sticking charm during the day, and he never left his side. But a day later, on February 15th, he watched as Hermione looked up from her breakfast and whatever Crouch was saying to her, catch James's eyes, and nod once, a tiny smile spreading across her face.

And James, at his side, grinned back.)

* * *

By the time March rolled around, Sirius was convinced something was up with James Potter. Remus, he knew (although they had yet to speak out loud about the matter), was also concerned - or quietly observant as he carefully watched James in classes that Sirius did not attend, and, strangely enough, during meal time. Peter was merely happy to go along with Sirius's thoughts but had little opinion on the matter.

What Sirius knew, however, was that it revolved around the Evans sister, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it and get his best friend back! James was _not_ acting like himself: he was studious; he was answering questions in class _voluntarily_ and had even cut down on his prank time with Sirius and the other Marauders citing he had to _study._ STUDY. In the library! For his Arithmancy OWL! Which was still three months away!

Ridiculous.

Despite liking the little spitfire, Sirius had a strong suspicion that this was Hermione Evans fault. She was corrupting Prongs, changing him, making him think that school was important, that his grades mattered. She was filling his head with poison! Or something. He wasn't sure how yet, or even why, so he spent the next week or so subtly watching her (which wasn't very subtly at all).

He expertly trailed James to his study sessions with her and waited under the _borrowed_ invisibility cloak to see what they did. He was expecting… love potions. Confundus charms. Or, given the girls' talent in spell crafting, something he had never heard or seen of before.

Instead, they… did homework. Hermione Evans tutored James on the material from just a month ago in their OWL class, and Sirius was quietly impressed at how well she caught him up in time for their exams.

But, as Sirius squinted his eyes from behind a large text titled _Miraculous Mishaps in Modern Magic_ , there was something… _off_ about their interactions. Nothing improper or overt, actually; just, off…

Like how when James got all the answers to his homework (now nearly all up to date with class; he was only a few worksheets behind), the grin that Hermione sent James had his best mate puff up in pride and reach up to fluff his hair.

Or, like when James would ask a rather insightful question, Hermione would lean back in her seat, eyes turned upward to the ceiling in deep thought, before nodding and muttering something like, "I hadn't thought of that - well done!" and _she'd_ send _him_ an impressed look.

 _Hmm_ , thought Sirius, eyes darting back and forth. _This requires more reconnaissance_.

* * *

Despite being curious, Remus refused to help. So Sirius enlisted Peter, whom most people overlooked anyway, making him the best sort of spy out there.

In April, at the end of one of the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff Quidditch matches (and of course, Gryffindor victory), Peter told Sirius that he caught James giving Hermione a hug outside the locker room, once the stands had cleared and the team was washing up before heading to the dorm room for their celebratory party.

In May, Sirius caught James leaning against the rough stone-hewed wall of a courtyard off the Clock Tower, bracing his forearm against it and well above Hermione's head as she pressed back against the same wall, looking up at him.

Sirius, used to all manner of expression on the opposite sex (ecstasy, annoyance, rage, unhappiness, manipulative pouting, indifference), wasn't quite sure where to place Hermione's expression.

James - he knew - was easy to read. His friend was looking down at the curly-haired girl, his lips pulled back into an easy, confident smile and his hazel eyes - from what Sirius could see - were bright. Even his pose, although dominating Hermione's tiny frame, was open and relaxed. It was a look that Sirius rarely saw in his friend, except around those he felt the most comfortable around; people he could be himself without the big, bold, brash Gryffindor personality he had adopted.

 _But Hermione?_ Sirius shook his head.

It almost looked like amused fondness.

Which would be weird, considering that the Evans sisters disliked James; particularly Lily. And from what Sirius knew, Hermione didn't mind tutoring James in Arithmancy, but she wouldn't go out of her way to speak to him outside of the library.

Except... she was.

* * *

And then, it was time for the fifth years to write their OWLs.

Hermione knew it was coming. She knew that nothing she could've done in this timeline would have prevented what was to be - Snape being an idiot and her sister being stubborn, and throwing away his friendship while he took the necessary steps that brought him closer and closer to the man she knew in her future.

Long after Severus Snape died, and the war was over, Harry had divulged to her and Ron that he had gone into the man's pensieve and seen the memory of his fifth year OWL exam and the aftermath, including a vague explanation of how his friendship ended with Lily Evans. But Harry had been shady on the details, still respecting that man's privacy a decade and a half after his death.

So, while Hermione was aware, on some level, of _something_ that would happen, she was… unprepared for how bad it was actually was.

Unlike the fifth years, the fourth years still has classes to attend while the others wrote their exams in the Great Hall (with the exceptions of her writing her NEWTs in Arithmancy and Charms, which she did in Professor Janus and Professor Flitwick's offices, respectively).

She had just finished her Charms NEWT, completely and utterly confident in her abilities given that she had over three decades ahead of what the examiner expected of her. As such, she was walking down towards the Black Lake to meet Barty and Regulus once they finished with Potions (as Slughorn happily told her to skip his class for her exams. Two words: _Slug Club_ ). She arrived at her spot well ahead of her friends,

She sat on a comfortable patch of grass near the Lake and sat down a soft mound banking the lake that hid her from the quad and courtyards outside the Entrance Hall, cross-legged with her skirt modestly tucked around her knees. It was her favourite place outside to conduct her experiments, near the Lake for water, but surrounded by earth and hidden from nosey classmates unless someone knew where to look for her - like Barty and Regulus, the former who practically tumbled down the mound.

"Hermione!" greeted Barty loudly, flinging himself onto the grass beside her.

"Hey," she said, turning partially to look at him as he sprawled against the mound in a reclining position, using his Hogwarts blazer as a pillow beneath his head. "How was Potions?"

"Tolerable," said Regulus with a sigh as he pulled out his wand, cast a cushioning charm on the ground, and then primly sat.

"Only tolerable?" teased Hermione, a glint in her eyes.

Barty rolled his. "You know that he asked Reg to join his Slug Club. Again."

"It's _embarrassing_ ," replied Regulus with a slight whine to his voice. "You know he just wants the Black name. And he'll never ask Sirius after he blew up his potions for an entire year... deliberately."

Hermione chuckled and Barty sighed as he stretched his arms up, looking very much like a long, lounging cat.

Regulus, keeping his posture perfect, pulled the very same flower he once gave Calypso from his bag and began spinning it in absent-minded circles as his thoughts turned inward. Finally, he felt Hermione's eyes on him and asked, "Have you done more? Of your transmutations?"

"I was going to practice," admitted Hermione. "Did you want to see? I think I have an idea of what to do."  
"Do?" asked Barty, his eyes peeking open.

"Beyond flowers and transmutation circles," explained Hermione, looking down at her hands. "I think I can do it without them now."

Regulus's eyebrows shot up. He leaned forward, no longer twirling the flower. "If you did that - that would be beyond anything - it would -"

"Practically change magic," breathed Barty, eyes wide.

Hermione looked away, bashfully as a blush stole across his cheeks. "We don't know that I can manage. It's been months since I had the last breakthrough -"

"You can," promised Regulus, his plump Pureblood tones softening. "Believe in yourself."

Hermione nodded and tilted her head back and she took in the warmth of the June sun on her face and shoulders. Deep breaths as she inhaled and exhaled escaped her, and she felt peace settle over her like a comfortable blanket.

After a few moments, she rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and ran her fingers through the grass, where white sparks crackled and popped and spread around in front of her, like a spider web as the ground rose and fell in gentle, rolling waves just like the lake before her.

Hermione grinned. _Holy shit. I did it! Like in the Room of Requirement!_

"Merlin," she heard Regulus breath out, awe lacing his voice.

"I _knew_ she could do it," she heard Barty mutter proudly.

She stared at the earth as it moved before her, stationary instead of spreading out across the grounds, but with a gentle motion that determined her control over the element. This was no reanimation or rebirth of a flower - she was actively engaging with and manipulating the ground.

With a rush of adrenaline through her, she spread the fingers on her hands and clenched them at once, bringing both fists up and watched as the earth followed her movements, rising like a podium. As soon as she let go of her fists and dropped her hands, the earth stand collapsed.

This was a kind of magic she had never seen before, even between Dumbledore and Voldemort in their duels, or Harry and Voldemort; this was the magic she hypothesized while working at the Ministry in her forties. This was magic of a different kind - wandless, elemental, but deeply rooted in understanding the scientific base of everything around her.

She was flushed and breathless with pleasure at her accomplishment and breakthrough.

And it was only then, as she came down from her high, that she heard the loud laughs and chatter from the other students as they exited their exams.

Hermione met Barty and Regulus's eyes, and, they turned as one, together twisting and crawling up the mound to see whether anyone was inadvertently going to find their hidden spot. Hermione poked her head from the earth and looked around at the gathering of students, many not wearing their Hogwarts robes in the warm weather.

A group of girls on the other side of the mound were cooling their feet in the water; one she recognized as her sister with her bright red hair shining in the June sunlight. Nearly a hundred meters down from the shoreline where she was hidden in the opposite direction, was a beech tree that she once sat under with Harry and Ron, but was currently occupied by the Marauders. Remus had a book out, engrossed in it; James was playing with a snitch, completely taken by tossing it up and catching it just as Peter was watching him; Sirius, however...

With Hermione, Regulus and Barty caught between the two groups, she turned her direction to see what the Black heir was staring at, like a dog that scented a rabbit - and spotted Severus Snape, fifth year Slytherin and one of the few students still in his Hogwarts robes, settled by a nearby clump of bushes, trying to remain cool in their meagre shade. He was directly opposite them, in a strange triangular shape.

Something heavy settled in Hermione's stomach. _Oh. Oh, dear._

Regulus muttered a charm, and then, like a bubble settling over the three of them, they could hear what his brother and friends were saying.

"This'll liven you up, Prongs," Sirius muttered, causing James to sigh. He stopped playing with his snitch. "Look who it is…"

James obediently looked in the direction that Sirius suggested. "So? It's Snape. And he's leaving."

Sure enough, Hermione glanced back at the Slytherin and saw he was getting to his feet, shoving an OWL examination paper in his side bag.

Sirius gapped. "Mate? It's _Snivellus_. C'mon!"

As Snape left the shadows of the bush, Sirius bounded forward a few steps. James shot to his feet, grabbing the snitch and shoving it in a pocket. Remus remained looking at his book but this time he was staring at it furiously, a furrow between his brows while Peter was looking eagerly between Sirius, James, and Snape as if wondering what would happen next.

"All right Snivellus?" shouted Sirius, drawing everyone's attention that was within hearing range.

At her side, Regulus slowly shut his eyes, painfully; Barty's were narrowed - Hermione knew he never had any strong positive feelings toward him anyway - and, on Hermione's other side, she saw her sister get to her feet, just as her girl friends stopped gossiping and talking. Many others were standing as well, water sluicing down their bare legs.

And yet, in the span of Hermione taking everything in, Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting the attack; he dropped his bag, plunged his hand in his robes, and his wand was halfway up and in a wide arc when Sirius shouted, " _Expelliarmus_!"

The Slytherin's wand flew in the air and landed some twelve feet, with a thud on the grass near Barty, who eyed it with distaste.

Sirius let out a bark of laughter and shouted another spell. Snape, who had dived forward for his wand, was knocked back and landed with a skid in the grass, getting long, green grass stains on his Hogwarts robes. His face was flushed red when he looked up and spotted the three of them directly ahead. Fury and shame broke across his face as he realized he was the focus of so much attention.

A crowd was beginning to form.

Sirius advanced, wand aloft. James trailed after him, muttering, "Sirius, Padfoot - stop this. What are you doing?"

"C'mon, mate!" grinned Sirius, although it looked strained. "You've been out of sorts since January. Putting Snivellus in his place will do you a load of good, yeah? It always makes me feel better."

James's eyes narrowed from behind his glasses and he stopped walking. "Is that why you're doing this? Because of _me_?"

Sirius whirled around to stare at his friend. "You _must_ admit that you haven't been acting normally, Jimmy. At all. C'mon - where's the showmanship that I know so well? The Gryffindor who is brave and daring? Who looks cool for Evans?"

At that, James nervously glanced over his shoulder toward the water where Lily was beginning to take little slow, worried steps forward. He glanced around, taking in the crowd, and then, when his eyes were wandering back to his friends, he saw Hermione, Barty, and Regulus watching, from where they stood on their steeply banked mound. He winced.

Peter was on his feet and Remus had abandoned the pretense of reading his book, merely staring down at the pages.

"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" continued Sirius, a nasty tone to his voice.

Hermione breathed deeply, trying to remember he was fifteen and stupid, and not the man at thirty-seven who died protecting Harry in the Department of Mysteries.

"I was watching him!" piped up Peter, joining the two black-haired teens as he sidled up next to James. He glanced up at them, not even looking at Snape. The mousy, curly-haired thin teen was sniggering. "His nose was touching the parchment. There'll be grease marks all over it. I doubt the professors will be able to read a word!"

Several people watching laughed. Hermione frowned.

"Berk," muttered Barty under his breath.

Snape, still facing their direction, struggled to get up even as his eyes were cut towards the Gryffindors. The jinx held him and, with a slight sigh, Barty twitched his fingers, his own magic counteracting Sirius's own spell.

Immediately, Snape's body relaxed; yet in opposition, his eyes widened in panic as he tried to figure out what happened, to figure out who had broken the jinx and what it meant for him. Was another attack coming?

"Oh, well done," murmured Hermione to Barty, who glanced at her and preened, a pleased smile stretching across his face. "Your wandless spells are coming along nicely - I hadn't realized you were able to cast a _finite_ from this distance."

Regulus nodded at Hermione's other side in agreement.

Slowly, Snape got to his feet, inching a bit towards his wand.

"Just wait," he snarled with an expression of pure loathing through heavy, panted breaths, causing James, Sirius, and Peter to whirl and face him. Sirius was shocked to see him on his feet. "Just - you - wait!"

Sirius' shocked face morphed into disdain. "Wait for what? What are you going to do, Snivelly? Wipe your nose on us?"

Snape let out an expressive and expansive list of swear words and curses in his thick Yorkshire accent that impressed Hermione. "Blimey," she said.

At her side, Barty nodded emphatically. "Are you recording this, Reg? Please tell me you are. I need to remember some of those to us when I'm home for the summer."

In response, Regulus rolled his eyes expressively with a slight scowl.

"Snape," said James suddenly, "Watch your mouth - there are first years out here."

"What a good idea, Prongsie," grinned Sirius devilishly. Then he cast _scourgify_ , hitting Snape directly in the face as pink bubbles streamed from his mouth at once. The froth was thick, covering his lips, making him choke, gagging.

Hermione winced.

" _Leave him alone_!"

" _Fuccccccckkkk_ ," she moaned, turning to see her sister striding forward from the Lake's edge.

Both Regulus and Barty turned to her as one, just as Sirius, Peter, and James turned to face the other Evans sister striding forward, his face flushed and the colour clashing with her vibrant hair.

"What's it to you, Evans?" asked Sirius, nonchalantly, but his eyes were off to the side, on James, who froze. Sirius has a calculating look on his face, something alien that Hermione had never seen before.

James's hand twitched at his side, unsure if it should go to his hair or not as Lily stopped a few metres from them. Instead, he clenched his fist and kept it at his side as Remus began to inch forward, his own eyes wide and focused on the Marauder's ringleader.

Lily was focused on Sirius. "Leave him alone," she repeated.

"This is _not_ going to go well," muttered Regulus, cancelling the eavesdropping spell as there was no need - everyone within a hundred foot radius was watching rapturously and it was so silent that their conversation was easily heard. "Sirius doesn't like being told what to do."

"Yeah, I remember," said Hermione, pursing her lips, thinking back to the weeks when he stalked her. "I'm going to go out there."

Barty's head whipped around to stare at her. "What for? You could get caught in the middle of them! Or hit by a spell!"

"I think I'll be fine," she replied, stepping forward and sliding away from Barty's outstretched hand.

Lily had continued speaking, and Hermione managed to be within two feet of her as Peter answered, "-the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"

Those around them laughed, except for Hermione, Lily (who looked murderous towards Peter and Sirius), Remus, who clenched his hands on his book, and, surprisingly, James, who was nervously looking around.

"I suppose you think that was funny," said Hermione, pitching her voice so that everyone heard.

There was some silence and awkward shifting, and someone even said, heard by all, "Who's the Ravenclaw?"

"Hermione," sputtered James, blinking. This time, his hand flew up and he ran it through his hair, messing it up, and then he did it again. "All right? How did your NEWT go?"

Hermione glanced toward him and then to her sister, who was staring at James in bewilderment. Then, after a moment, she shook her head, as if clearing her mind, and faced Sirius once more, speaking coolly. "You're just an arrogant, bullying toe rag, Black. You take out your own insecurities and mummy and daddy issues out on anyone you can to make yourself feel better. Pathetic."

Hermione winced. "Lily - I don't think that was the best-"

James tried, too. "Padfoot - she doesn't know anything - honest -"

But Sirius's face turned splotchy red. "My own insecurities, Evans? Really? Then let's have a chat, shall we? Let's talk about the fact that no one in the school even knows about Hermione, hmm?"

"What?" Lily rocked back a bit, blinking.

He nodded in her direction, and Hermione froze. "You know, right Evans? Your _little sister_. In Ravenclaw? You ashamed of her or something?"

There was some muttering around the crowd, and Hermione's eyes darted around as she caught a few snippets.

" _-a sister?"_

" _Ravenclaw? She must be smart-"_

" _Maybe Evans felt threatened?"_

" _What a bitch."_

" _Oh Merlin, there's two of the Mudbloods…"_

Hermione felt like the earth had opened up under her. It was one thing to throw herself out there and be comfortable with her position in this life - but that was because _she_ was in control of who she spent time with and who got to know her. She was comfortable with Barty and Regulus; and, even to some degree, James and vaguely Sirius. But… _this?_

She could feel the pinpricks of dozens of eyes suddenly on her, and the cloak of invisibility that she had wrapped around her as security and comfort be ripped off painfully. She shuddered.

"Don't make this about me," snapped back Lily, but there was a tremble in her voice and a sheen to her eyes as she panicked and looked around, her eyes avoiding Hermione completely. "This is about you. You attacking my friend."

Sirius scoffed.

"Tell you what, Evans," the Gryffindor drawled, spinning his wand lazily. "Since _I_ am apparently a keen observer and we all know that my best friend - my brother in all but name - fancies you, let's make a deal. Go out with him, a real proper date like he's wanted for years, and not only will I never lay a wand on old Snivelly again, I won't mention what a shite sister you are."

It was Lily's turn to freeze as the air was sucked out of the area around them. There was a strange buzzing noise in the air, and Hermione swayed slightly as her heartbeat quickened and her palms began to sweat. There was a terse, crackling feeling in the air.

Yet, in all this time, no one was looking at Snape, who had used it to his advantage, crawling toward his wand, the frothing soap in his mouth beginning to dwindle and leaving him looking less rabid.

"I wouldn't go out with Potter if he were the last man on earth," declared Lily, finally. She tilted her chin up and tossed her shoulder-length hair back.

Sirius eyed her. "So you wouldn't take one for the team, eh, Evans? Not to help your so-called _best friend_? To let your _sister_ know you care about her? Some loyalty you have. I guess that's why you're not in Hufflepuff."

Lily bristled.

"Bad luck, Prongs," continued Sirius briskly. "Guess you've got your answered there and are a free agent once more." With that, he turned back to Snape, eyes growing wide. " _Oi_!"

But Snape had reached his wand and directed it towards the three teens standing together; there was a flash of light as it burst from his wand and, in his anger, it veered widely away from Sirius and Peter toward James.

With a heavy inhale through her nose, Hermione whipped her hand out and up; the ground before James's feet trembled and then a sheet of solid earth rose up, a thin rectangular that, when the light hit it, dashed it and sent bits crumbling to the ground as it collapsed. Yet, the spell dissipated upon hitting something - its target.

James, standing behind the sheet of compact dirt, stared. Slowly, he turned his head to face Hermione. She, in response, quickly slipped her wand into her hand to make it appear as if she had cast a spell, especially as others caught on that she blocked Snape's attack.

Sirius whirled, his own eyes wide and frantic as he looked his best friend over for a cut, blood, anything - but then he whirled around just as quickly, toward Snape. Then the Slytherin was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants; he wasn't wearing the pressed trousers or Muggle-styled uniform under.

Many people in the crowd roared with laughter, including Sirius and Peter. Hermione winced, involuntarily taking a step forward, which put her level to her sister, whose furious expression twitched - and Hermione stared hard at her profile.

 _Were you… were you about to_ smile? thought Hermione, eyes growing wide. _This is your best friend! If Malfoy had_ ever _thought of doing something like this to Ron or Harry, I would have cheerfully snuck into the Slytherin dormitory and risked expulsion to avenge them. And here you are, sister, thinking someone else's suffering is okay? He hasn't even said - that word - yet, if the memory continues to play out_.

Disgust stole over her face, and Hermione strode forward, overtaking her sister who remained in place. Behind her, she could hear Barty and Regulus muttering and then one was scrambling after her. She knew it was Barty - Regulus had to maintain some Slytherin objective.

With a cut of her wand, the _levicorpus_ spell - ironically Snape's own invention - broke and he crashed to the ground; behind her, she heard Barty mutter a cushioning charm. She glanced back and nodded in appreciation and he gave her a tight, grim smile.

Righting himself and his robes, Snape got to his feet, wand up; just as Sirius opened his mouth,

"ENOUGH!" roared Hermione, inserting herself between the two as Barty squawked and James jerked forward. She glanced between the two as Sirius froze and snapped his mouth shut. "This has gone on long _enough_!"

Sirius eyed her warily. "Princess... don't make me hex you. Get out of the way. This is between me and Snivelly."

"This is between _both_ of your ridiculous egos and pathetic need for validation," snapped Hermione, facing Sirius. "But it is _enough_ now. You're done, Sirius. Walk away. Be the bigger man."

There was a terse silence in the crowd; Lily began to wring her hands, glancing between Snape and Hermione and then Sirius. Sirius himself was staring at Hermione, frowning like he couldn't quite figure something out - and James, his mouth had dropped open for a brief moment, and then snapped shut so quickly and tightly Hermione could hear the sound where she stood between the two teens, as well as see the accompanying tense jaw he was working.

Finally - finally, Sirius lowered his wand.

Next to Lily, Barty let out a loud sigh of relief.

"All right, Evans," he said, slowly. "All right." He turned to Snape, shaking his head. "You're lucky that Hermione was here, Snivellus-"

"I don't need help from filthy know-it-all Mudbloods like her!"

Hermione blinked. _Oh, wow. It… still happened. Just… not with Lily. Hmm._

"APOLOGIZE TO HERMIONE!" roared James, and then he was brushing past Sirius, striding forward with his wand ablaze, its tip pulsing angrily with a spell he hadn't yet unleashed until he was nearly at her side. His face was incredibly flushed in his anger, his hair far more windswept than normal as his magic crackled around him.

Hermione turned and pressed up against his chest with both her hands, pushing him back so that he stumbled a step, but his eyes were locked on the Slytherin.

"Are you _kidding_ me? Potter - James -" Hermione shook her head. "I don't need a knight in armour, here. Drop it."

Jaw tensing, James glanced down at her, his hazel eyes furious. "He called you a _you-know-what_! How dare he!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "Does it _look_ like I'm upset?"

James paused, reaching for her with his non-wand hand and gripping her arm, just by her elbow. His fingers slipped under her shirt's rolled-up sleeve and she fought against a shiver. "What?"

His eyes darted back and forth between hers, taking in her relaxed stance, the way she wasn't reacting to the slur. But, behind them, Lily gave a tiny mocking laugh. "Well. I certainly won't be sticking around if that's how you truly think of us Muggleborn. And I'd wash your pants, if I were you, _Snivellus_."

Hermione and James spun as one to stare at Lily, his hand clenching around her arm in response. Her eyes were narrowed firmly in her (ex?)friends' direction, but then they turned to James.

"And _you_ -" she began. "I don't want _you_ to make him apologize. You're as bad as he is!"

James sputtered. "I beg your pardon-" just as Hermione snapped, "Lily!"

But she rolled her eyes. "Please. Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick-"

Hermione frowned as she thought back to his nervous hand running through his hair. Apparently, it wasn't _all_ nerves, then.

"-Showing off with that stupid snitch, walking down the corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can-"

Her frown deepened. _Was he? He_ was?

"-I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me _sick_!" Lily shouted the last part, breathing heavily. Then she turned on her heel and strode off, towards the Entrance Hall. Those in her way, part of the surrounding crowd, scrambling over themselves to part for her.

A few of her girl friends from Gryffindor, the other girls watching by the lake, took off after her. "Lily! Lily, wait!"

"What's with her?" muttered Sirius, but still loud enough for those hanging around to hear.

"When did this become about _me_?" muttered James, his voice annoyed. His hand reflexively twitched and Hermione glanced down at it. He followed her eyes and removed his hand, jerking back like it burned. He took several steps away from her. "Sorry."

"Sounds to me like she thinks you're conceited, Prongs," said Peter, his mouth turned down. "And that Padfoot has deep-rooted psychological issues toward his parents."

"Right," breathed Sirius, heavily through his nose as his nostrils flared.

"Sirius -" warned Hermione, eyes flashing, "Don't-"

"Don't tell me what to do, Evans," he snapped back, looking furious.

His wand inched up, aimed toward her, and then Barty was there, his own pointed at Sirius, and Regulus was on Hermione's other side, but his wand was pointed down. There was an edge to his eyes though, and a nasty threatening cadence to his voice when he said, "Hello, brother."

Sirius swallowed thickly, staring at his brother for several long moments, and then he turned - too quickly for Hermione to follow and there was another flash. Snape was once again upside down and Sirius was taunting, "Who wants to see me take Snivelly's pants off?"

" _Oh my God_ ," moaned Hermione. She cut her hand through the air like Barty had, and again, Snape fell to the ground. This time, there were tears gathering in his eyes and he was flushed very red against his pale face.

Sirius turned to face Hermione. "You've had enough chances, Evans. You want a fight? Fine."

"Sirius!" snapped James. "That's enough! Stop it! You're not angry with her. You're not even angry with Snape! Let it be!"

"If you want a fight, Black," jeered Hermione, narrowing her eyes, "I'm happy to oblige." She then gave him a tiny little smirk, knowingly pushing his buttons.

Barty moaned.

Breathing heavily, Sirius stared at her. Then he was stalking forward, James on his heels, until he stopped nose-to-nose with her. Sirius was, and always had been, a tall man and as a teenager, he towered over her. But Hermione let her head tip back and she even smiled placidly up at him.

Grey eyes catching hers, he leaned forward a bit more and breathed, "Midnight. Shrieking Shack. And you'd better come alone, Evans. I'll _know_."

Behind her, James stood, horrified.

But Sirius had strode off, also toward the Entrance Hall, with Peter following him. Remus, looking peaky and ill, kept looking between him and James, Hermione, Regulus, and Barty where they stood. None of the crowd had heard, except them.

"You won't let him do this, will you?" the werewolf muttered anxiously at James. "James? Will you?"

"I-"

But he shook his head, torn, and then was walking away, past Snape without a word as the other teen glared at him. But Snape did not raise his wand. Sensing the fight was over without further retaliation from anyone involved, the crowd began to disperse.

"Please tell me you're not going to go," begged Barty, leaning down a bit to look at Hermione with wide brown eyes.

Hermione rolled them. "He's spoiling for a fight. And in the meantime between now and then, he'll just rack himself up. It's best I do."

"But -"

"Barty," said Hermione, "I can handle him. You know I can. You _both_ do," she turned to catch Regulus's frown. "And I won't hurt him."

"But why'd he suggest the Shrieking Shack?" asked Regulus slowly. "And you won't go alone, will you?"

"I will," she nodded, and they slowly began to walk back to their banked mound to collect their bags. "And as for the location…"

She trailed off and then looked up at the sunny sky, where the full moon would later hang. "I have a good idea as to why."

* * *

 **Note** : You'll note that there is a lot from the OotP chapter, "The Pensieve" here; remember that it comes from Harry's biased perspective, as there are some word for word lifts in this chapter. I am _not_ trying to paint Lily in a bad light at all. We need to remember that these are 14 and 15-year-olds, and IMO, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are hotbeds for peer pressure and bullying.


	9. Choices

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

IX

* * *

"Sometimes the things presented to us as choices aren't choices at all."

\- _11/22/63_ , Stephen King

* * *

The boys' dormitory in Gryffindor was filled with a tense sort of quiet. None of them had attended dinner - Remus was feeling too sickly to eat, with the oncoming moon; James and Sirius were too furious for hunger, and Peter had followed along.

Now, the four were in their room, hastily thrown up silencing spells layered through practice from four wands to blot the sound of the Common Room (and their room) out. Remus, pale grey in the face and sweaty, sank to the floor at the foot of his bed and cradled his head in his folded arms as his knees came up - James sent him a worried look, swallowing thickly at the obvious display of nerves. His eyes then darted to Sirius, who, despite the toss of his head and the upturned, stubborn chin, kept glancing worriedly at Remus. Peter stood near Sirius, warily looking between him and James, and was slowly edging to his bed.

James, however, stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed. Finally, he inhaled deeply in the terse silence of the room. He tried to handle his anger - his fear, his worry - by counting his breaths.

In. _One, two, three._

Out. _One, two, three._

In. _One, two -_

 _"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"_ the words exploded out of James's mouth in a breathless rush, aimed directly at Sirius who flinched, his shoulders hunching just a bit like a shocked, misbehaving dog. "Oh - I'll _tell_ you - you _weren't!_ How could you, Sirius?! How could you do this to Remus?"

Bitterly, Sirius mumbled, "Don't you mean Hermione?"  
James pinched the bridge of his nose, riding his glasses up a bit as he did so. "Sirius. You are putting our _best friend_ at jeopardy because - for some strange reason - you have a grudge against a _fourteen year old_."

"She's not fourteen," he replied petulantly, "She had a birthday in September."

James stared at him, and even Remus wearily raised his head from the comforting protection of his arms to share in James's befuddled and exasperated look.

"I beg your pardon?" sputtered James, blinking.

Sirius's cheeks turned red. He then exhaled and cut a hand through the air. "Look - it doesn't matter okay? I did what was right. And she's not going to show anyway, so who cares? It wasn't meant for her anyway."

 _Not meant for her…?_ James's eyes shut slowly and painfully as he squeezed them against the realization that there were a few others within hearing distance when Sirius had said that. _And as far as I know, he wouldn't do anything to hurt his brother, and I doubt that he knows Crouch's name..._

"Sirius. Please. _Please_ tell me this still isn't about Snape."

The teen in question scoffed. "When _isn't_ it about Snivellus?"

Remus groaned from his position on the floor. Peter's eyes were wide as they darted back and forth between the two black-haired teens.

James did his best to not launch himself across the floor and tackle Sirius in order to pummel him. His anger made his hands shake and he breathed deeply as he tried to maintain his composure. " _Sirius_. There is no reason to keep antagonizing Snape-"

"Of course there is," broke in the Black teen, "I have about a dozen springing to mind right now-"

Peter snickered.

"-when he hasn't done anything - er, for the most part - to provoke it," continued speaking James over Sirius, raising his voice. "It's different if he sends a spell to you first, Sirius, but to continue to bother him-"

"-I can do what I want, James-"

"-I'm not saying that you _can't_ , Sirius-"

"-Oh? Because my ears are hearing something very different-"

"- _No one is telling you what to do_ \- I'm telling you to be careful-"

"-I'm careful-"

Remus snorted.

"-Not careful enough, Sirius! Not when you're telling Hermione or Snape to go to the Shrieking Shack on a full moon!"

"Oh, come off it, Jimmy," sighed Sirius with an expressive eye roll, flopping down on his bed in one move, "I said it before; Evans won't go. And while Snape's curiosity will take him to the Shack, we'll make sure he doesn't get too close-"

"Really?" James's stare was hard on Sirius. "Are you _sure_? Because it really sounds to me like you're setting Snape up to be murdered by _our friend_."

"Well, I wouldn't complain if he was permanently out of the way," replied Sirius airily, Peter nodding along.

"Sirius!" both James and Remus were aghast and their cries reflected that.

The teen shrugged and reached for a discarded magazine on his night table, beginning to flip through it. James was not fooled by the nonchalant act, as Sirius's shoulders were still very tense and his body was held rigidly on the bed.

"Sirius, please tell me you don't want Remus to be used as a-" he struggled for a word, before blurting, "A- a _murder weapon_ to get rid of Snape because you're jealous of him!"

"Jealous?" scoffed Sirius, but there was a brittle quality to his voice. "Me? Ha! Jealous. Please."

The silence in the room suggested that Remus, James, and Peter thought otherwise.

When no one spoke, Sirius tossed his magazine down on the bed and stared hard at his friends. "Why would _I_ be jealous of Snivelly?"

Despite the waxy sheen to Remus's face, his voice was all snark when he replied, "Oh, I don't know, Padfoot - maybe because he's in Slytherin and has parental approval? Or that he's a Halfblood and still seems to have some sort of friend circle? I mean, it's not like _you_ sling nasty Dark magic at him when he does the same back to you, or anything like that-"

"I'm not a Dark wizard!" shouted Sirius, rising to his feet and face red as he stared down his werewolf.

Remus's stare was bland, just as his reply. "Of course you're not."

Through his teeth, Sirius gritted, "Is that sarcasm, Moony?"

James sighed, his voice cracking with the strain as he spoke. "Sirius - _please_."

Sirius turned to his best friend, his brother in all but blood (although, they were cousins, so blood related as well), and met his hazel eyes. Although his blood was still boiling from the insults his friends hurtled at him - the fact that two had even _done so_ had Sirius stop and think, shortly, that maybe - maybe - he was in the wrong - and he took a deep breath in reply.

"James," pled Sirius, grey eyes wide and earnest. "You _know_ me. I'm not a Dark wizard - I'm not like my family! You know that! I don't like Snivel-er… _Snape_ -"

Remus snorted.

Sirius shot a glare at him. "-Okay, so I _hate_ the bugger, fine, happy now, Moony? But I'm not a murderer. I'm not!"

James glanced at Remus who shrugged. Peter remained silent, happy to be out of the way while his friends worked things out between them, as his opinions tended to be more aligned with Sirius's but given how Remus and James were going after him, Peter wisely kept silent.

Turning back to Sirius, James said, pointedly, "Then prove me wrong and go find Snape. Stop him from going to the Shack tonight."

Sirius's pleading face drained and he nearly rolled his lower lip in to chew nervously on it. "But what if he tells people about Moony?"

James blinked. "Is _that_ what this is about? You were planning on getting Snape seriously hurt because you're afraid he'll tell someone that there is a werewolf at Hogwarts?"

"Moony could be expelled, or hurt," argued Sirius, his voice small.

Remus growled, "Moony could _still_ be hurt or expelled tonight because of your stupidity, Sirius! Merlin!" the sandy-haired teen shot to his feet and, with a renewed vigor, snapped, "I'm going to see Madam Pomfrey and then heading to the Shack. For God's Sake, Sirius!" he turned to his friend, sliding into blasphemy from his mother's Muggle upbringing, " _FIX THIS_."

Remus stormed out of the dorm. With a glance between the two, Peter scurried after him, calling, "Remus! Wait for me!"

James waited a few moments, letting the silence linger a bit longer in the room as some of the tension bleed with the removal of Remus and Peter. Finally feeling like he might find the underlying cause of things, because there was more than what Sirius was saying, James asked, quietly, "It's more than just Snape, isn't it? You've been out of sorts since January."

Sirius turned his face and eyes from his friend and moved to his bed, smoothing the duvet and fussing over it.

"Don't avoid, Sirius."

The dog animagus sighed. "You don't want to hear what I'm going to say."

"You're my brother; of _course_ I want to hear what you say." James took a few steps forward and placed a hand on his friends' shoulder. "Even if I dislike it."

Sirius tensed under the hand, but then sighed heavily, and his shoulders fell. "You've changed."

"Changed?" shock laced through James's voice. "How?"

Sirius's look was dry, an unsaid _really?_ sent to James, indicating how dumb he thought that question was. When James failed to respond, Sirius sighed heavily. "Jimmy - James - how can you _not_ see? When was the last time you went after Evans?"

 _"Went after Hermione?"_ yipped James in shock, eyes and mouth wide as he nearly tripped on nothing, a stumble backward into the bed's poster.

"No, not Hermione," ground out Sirius, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Although that completely proves my point. Not so long ago you would have mentioned _Lily_ when I said 'Evans.' Now, your first thought is to her younger sister."

"I-" James snapped his mouth shut. There was a vaguely panicked look forming on his face as his eyes darted around the room and sweat began to bead at his hairline. His cheeks flushed a light pink.

"James," said Sirius, quite seriously, "Do you fancy Hermione?"

"Sirius! Merlin!" yanking at his collar, James's eyes slid away and toward his messy bed. His heart began to race. "What hogwash."

" _Mmhmm_."

 _Me? Fancy Hermione?_ Mentally, James scoffed, ignoring the furious racing of his pulse and the sudden sweat that raced down his spine. _She's a good friend and she's helped me do well on my Arithmancy work, that's all. Of course, there was that kiss at New Years - and she's a good laugh - no. No, I don't fancy her. She's bloody scary - I_ admire _her._

"I think you're barking up the wrong tree, Padfoot," replied James finally, his voice low and tone stern enough that the conversation was closed.

Sirius's eyebrows shot up, but he kept his mouth shut. James could read his thoughts clearly on his best friends' skeptical face, though; it read _you're not fooling anyone_.

Frustration bubbled up. With a glance away from his friend (he wasn't avoiding, at all!), James watched the sun's descent.

James said crossly, "Anyway - it's getting close to dinner and soon Moony will be heading to the Shack with Wormtail. Don't you think you have someone you need to find to stop them from being mauled or killed?"

The vague mirth in Sirius's face quickly faded to annoyance.

"Merlin, James, suck the fun out of it, why don't you?" he muttered, but listened to the silent suggestion, moving away from his bed and past his friend as he headed for the door. He grabbed a discarded jacket of Remus's, neatly hanging on a hook and swung it up and around as he smoothly stuck his arms through the sleeves. He was still muttering under his breath as he left the dormitory, leaving James alone.

For several long seconds, James held perfectly still, eyes forward as his ears strained for noise but the silencing spells they wove held. There was nothing but his harsh breathing, which increased its pace until he was almost panting nervously. Snapping his mouth shut upon realizing his quick breaths, he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

 _I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily. I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily._

It became a mantra in his mind, looping and littering his brain as he repeated the sentences repeatedly as he calmed his racing heart: _I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily. I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily._

Soon, his sweaty palms were dry, and his breaths were even and regulated. The sun was barely peeking over the mountain range beyond the Forbidden Forest, and soon the moon would be up. Remus, Sirius, and Peter would be waiting for him at the Shack, and the thought of leaving Moony alone without Prongs was an ache in his heart.

Turning, James made his way out of the dorm, taking the stone steps carefully and evenly as the mantra continued. _I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily._

However, at the foot of the stairs, he realized that those in the busy common room were rooted in spot; some blushing furiously and keeping their eyes forward or on books or their game of Gobstones while others were facing the girls' dorm unashamedly listening to the shouts that were echoing down. While he couldn't make them just out, James knew in his gut that it would be something he didn't like.

James took a step, then another, forward. _I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily._

 _"And you know what_ _ **really**_ _gets me? What_ _ **really**_ _bothers me, Hermione? You go to Ravenclaw and then_ _ **you fucking excel in everything you do!**_ _Like it's easy or something without any hard work put into studying or practicing magic!"_

His mouth turned down, involuntarily, against the thickness in Lily's voice. _I do not fancy Hermione Evans. I fancy Lily._

"What's going on?" he asked the nearest person he could find, a third year who glanced up at him with wide eyes.

"Some Ravenclaw came to the Common Room, asking for Evans, and now Evans is shouting at her," said the third year girl in a timid voice.

"Some Ravenclaw?" murmured James, turning back to the girls' steps. _Hermione?_

Then, Lily's voice tore viciously through the suddenly silent Common Room as even those pretending to ignore the argument found themselves frozen at the vitriol of the Muggleborn Gryffindor as her voice echoed down the stone passageways. There was something vibrating in the air - a tense, anticipatory air among the Gryffindors blatantly eavesdropping - and they were rewarded as Lily's cruel tone reached a crescendo that cut through the thick sense of eagerness in the Common Room.

" _ **I DON'T CARE!**_ _I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU GET UP TO! I DON'T CARE THAT YOU WRITE TO TUNEY AND SHE ACTUALLY REPLIES AND CARES FOR YOU OR WANTS TO KNOW WHAT YOU GET UP TO! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T! I DON'T!"_

James felt his mouth tighten and his hands clench into fists at his side. It was an instinctive response because he knew who Lily was speaking to - and his heart thundered in his chest and it was like he was outside again, listening to Snape call Hermione a mudblood but this time she wasn't there to stop him and then he was striding forward, toward the entrance, his hands shaking, his pulse racing -

 _"Just go back to Ravenclaw and hang out with your loser friend Crouch. Because you're weird and sociopathic and I can't even stand to look at you."_

 _How could she? Even when she was at her angriest with me, she's never said anything that horrible,_ thought James. _And to her own_ sister!

Belatedly, he realized that there were several silent students behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw many were staring at him, at the passage, at the stairs; some of the Gryffindors had a gleam in their eyes, and no matter what James did during the day in the corridors of Hogwarts, and he could never be as cruel to subject Hermione to the taunts that were sure to come.

A wave of protectiveness rose in him and he barked, "Mind your own business!" in a sharp voice.

Immediately, students began to talk loudly and kept their heads pointedly in the opposite direction of the stairs; approving, James nodded once and turned back, just as he heard the soft steps of someone walking down the stone.

The girl who emerged was not the confident and coolly collected Ravenclaw that James knew; Hermione's shoulders were hunched over and there was a glazed look to her light honey-colored eyes.

"... Hermione," he heard himself say, his voice trembling as he tried to control his emotions.

She sighed, glancing up and then away. "I guess you heard all that, huh, Potter?"

His jaw tensed again and shifted to the side as he grit down on the back of his teeth. His shoulders were tense and he was clenching and unclenching his fists at his side, trying to get feeling in them again.

"I-" he shook his head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. All thoughts of going outside and to the Shack were gone from his mind - instead, all he could focus on was Hermione's bright brown eyes, the slight sheen in them, and the tremble in her lips when she spoke. When he opened them, they were fixed firmly on her. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Sure, why not? How about we go up to your dorm room," suggested Hermione, her shoulders falling further. "If Black is up there, I can have someone else yell at me, too. I can have a matching pair from Gryffindor. Maybe then, I can visit Hufflepuff. I'm sure I've done something to offend them, too."

A stricken look passed over James's face. _Oh, Hermione..._

"Hermione," he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but quickly withdrew his hand. "Walk with me?"

She glanced up again, her lips pursed. She looked around his face, like searching for an answer. Whatever she saw in his face - which he tried to make earnest as possible - satisfied her. She sighed.

"Yeah. Okay."

Silently, they exited the Common Room through the Fat Lady's portrait; James's hand ached and he wasn't sure if it was from his tight clench or whether his hands itched to reach out and touch Hermione.

* * *

After her rather public "outing" when she stepped in between Sirius and Snape, Hermione elected to eat her dinner in the kitchens, with Barty at her side. Regulus bowed out.

("Why?" Barty asked.

"Because I want to get a read on the Slytherin Common Room right now," explained Regulus, his face strangely solemn. "Snape and Evans were known as best friends from day one at Hogwarts, despite being in different houses and different statuses." He sent an apologetic look toward Hermione, who shrugged. "Him calling _you_ a Mudblood like that, and then being linked to his best friend as her sister, will change how those in Slytherin view outside friendships."

"And my obvious connection to Lily now might make things difficult for you," sighed Hermione.

Regulus shrugged in reply, a rather un-Pureblood move. "Maybe. Everyone knew I was friends with you before-"

"Ah, yes, the pet Mudblood," said Hermione with a fond if not dry twist to her lips.

"-but Snape is merely a Muggle-raised Halfblood whereas I am a Black," finished Regulus, sending a glare at Hermione for interrupting. "I have more standing in Slytherin than he does. If everything Sirius has done over the years hasn't caused me problems, I doubt this will."

Barty sent Hermione a worried look as she narrowed her eyes at Regulus and said, cryptically, "We'll see.")

In the kitchens, surrounded by the warmth of several fires in stoves and ovens, as well as the ever-accommodating House Elves, Barty watched as Hermione stirred her spoon through her cold summer soup.

"What are you going to do?" he asked quietly, brows furrowed.

Hermione shrugged, eyes remaining down on the bowl.

"I know you said that you were going to give Black a fight, but surely you didn't mean that?" continued Barty, his voice starting to strain. "I know you're more than capable, Hermione - especially now - so that's not why I'm worried."

Hermione looked up now. "Worried? Whatever for?"

Barty stared at her. "Not even five months ago, that Gryffindor was proclaiming his love for you. You were starting to be friendly with him. Now you want to fight him?"

"Oh, he doesn't actually want to fight me," replied Hermione easily. "He just wants to release his anger and this is one of the few ways he knows how."

"What are the others?"

The look Hermione sent Barty was obvious and dry, and the brown-haired teen blushed so hotly that his ear tips went scarlet.

"And," the female Ravenclaw said pointedly, "I'm not offering myself up for that." She shuddered. "Having him chase me around Hogwarts reciting Shakespeare was enough. I don't _ever_ want to be caught in his amorous gaze."

Barty narrowed his eyes. "So - then why do this?"

Hermione looked down again, and frowned. "I think -" she began quietly, "I think I need to do this for myself, too. Like…"

 _I need to learn to divorce myself from the Sirius of my past - or, the future - and the Sirius of the now. With my presence, he's bound to change. Things won't remain the same. He's already a different person than the man I knew,_ she finished in her head, grimacing and looking away. _But that doesn't mean I'm going to let him get away with this shite._

Barty stared at her for a bit longer, mechanically chewing at his own meal. Finally, he swallowed and muttered, "If this is what you're planning on doing, well, then - fine." He sighed. "But don't think you're doing it alone."

The smile Hermione sent him made his chest tighten and warmth spread through his body. "I know you've got my back."

"Any day," replied Barty.

The two grinned at one another, and finished the rest of their meals in silence. Once done, after profusely thanking the House Elves, Hermione and Barty meandered the halls until they were on the same floor as the Fat Lady and the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione unconsciously did it, but, the closer they walked to her old, familiar stomping grounds from another time, Hermione realized that she needed to speak with her sister. What she had witnessed boiled within, and it was in direct contradiction to much of what she knew the Lily Potter of her past (future?) to be like.

Their walk slowed to an amble, and then to the dragging of her feet until they both stopped before the fat woman in a pink dress. Barty glanced at Hermione quizzically. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I don't want to do this. I _need_ to do this."

With a sigh, Barty placed himself opposite the portrait, leaning against the wall and idly pulling a book from his school bag, neither of them having gone to their Common Room after the fight. "I'll be here, then."

Hermione nodded and turned back to the Fat Lady. She was sure she could use her magic to nudge the portrait open, but a laughing pair of Gryffindor fourth years tumbled out, their breathless gasps silenced quickly when they spotted the blue and bronze of her uniform.

"I'm looking for Lily Evans," began Hermione carefully. "Can you please let my sister know Hermione is here?"

The two eyed her like some strange creature, but then shrugged.

"Go right in," one said, and then the two tripped over the lip of the portrait and went on their way down the hall.

Hermione stared after them as the portrait remained on its hinges.

"Well," urged Barty. "You heard them. Go in."

Hermione took a deep breath and stepped into the brightly lit room. The large fireplace that she used to sit in front of was inviting and warm; the arm chairs and low-slung scarlet loveseat in front of it was occupied by several students, one who had their feet up on the coffee table, an arm slung around his girlfriend.

Her gaze was next drawn to the opposite by the tall, skinny window, heavy velvet curtains drawn back. A chair and small, round table were unoccupied, but in her mind's eye, she could visualize a younger her, with bushy brown hair and slightly buck-toothed, frantically combing through a heavy text for answers for her latest assignment, unaware of everything around her.

Fondness crept through her and Hermione forcibly banished such a feeling as soon as she recognized it. _I'm no longer a Gryffindor. That past of mine is barred from me,_ she thought viciously and turned to the girl's staircase.

She received a few curious glances - her blue and bronze uniform striking among the red of the Gryffindor Common Room, but no one stopped her as she began to ascend - mainly because she could hear the whispers that they thought they kept from her:

" _That's her - the girl who stood up to the Marauders!"_

" _Evans' sister, I heard-"_

" _-she must be really smart, as a Ravenclaw-"_

She climbed up the four floors and knocked on the fifth year girls' dormitory door, which was shut. After a moment, it swung open. The lithe, black-haired girl in a rumpled uniform who answered quickly shifted her annoyed expression into wariness, as she looked Hermione up and down.

"Oh." She glanced over her shoulder and pushed the door open wider. "Lily - it's your sister."

Hermione tentatively stepped into a room she knew well, looking around. It was the first time in this decade that she entered the Gryffindor Common Room, and the girl's dorm by extension. She had never visited Lily in the past, and her sister never visited her in Ravenclaw. It was an odd feeling, seeing familiar four-poster beds, the silky red hangings, but not seeing Lavender's _Weird Sisters_ poster, or Parvati spreading out her exercise mat for her morning salutations.

"Thanks," she said, leaving the door open.

She didn't press her advantage further into the room, feeling - for the first time _ever_ \- like she was a stranger in this time. Before, she had distanced herself out of mental self-preservation and forced apathy. Now, having tried and beginning to make an effort with people in this time, integrating, she never felt more like an interloper in a sacred space.

Lily jackknifed up from where she was lying on her bed, staring wide-eyed at her sister in the doorway. She too remained in her school uniform, a rumpled white Oxford and unknotted tie. Her red hair was dishevelled and her eyes red-rimmed from crying. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"

Frowning, Hermione cut her eyes at the other girls in the room, all of whom were shamelessly watching. "I wanted to let you know what happened after you left."

"We already told her," said the black-haired girl who let her in, her voice dry. She crossed her arms and took up an aggressive hip-cocked stance against her bed. Her blue eyes were cool as they watched her.

 _Marlene,_ Hermione's brain supplied. Her eyes shifted to the curvy witch on the bed opposite to Lily, who had a brush in her hand and was working through a curl in her hair. _Mary MacDonald_ , Hermione continued and looked for the last girl who sat next to Lily on her bed, Phoebe.

"I see," said Hermione lowly.

Lily's face pinched. "Did you go to dinner?"

Hermione shook her head. "I ducked out with Barty. I didn't see the point." _And I didn't want to be stared at_.

Lily nodded. "I guess that's why you didn't know that I knew - the girls already told me. Phoebe had stayed behind as she was talking to Alice. Oh - you don't know her-"

 _Sure I do,_ thought Hermione, although the thought didn't appear on her face. Instead, it smoothed a bit more, mimicking Regulus's Pureblood look. _She's Neville's mother._

"-but she's a sixth year," finished Lily. The redhead sighed, scrubbing at her face. "Listen – 'Mione - I'm not really in the mood to talk, okay? Why don't you go back to Ravenclaw and just read your books or whatever it is you do?"

The tired tone to Lily's voice, as well as her bland delivery, had Hermione frowning. By the time she finished the sentence, Hermione felt a spark of anger rise in her.

 _Go read my books?_ She scowled.

"I came here to check on you, given that you lost your so-called best friend today, but now I see that there's something else we need to discuss," she began, her voice tightening. "Like whether or not what Sirius said is true."

Lily's entire form stiffened. "I beg your pardon?" her voice was shrill as it rose.

Hermione nodded. "Oh, you heard me. Are you ashamed of me, Lily? Is that why you don't tell people who I am? Go out of your way to never address me?"

Lily launched off the bed to stare at Hermione, paces away. Around her, the Gryffindor girls tensed; Mary slowly let her hand that was holding the brush fall to her bed.

"Ashamed?" Lily gave a tiny laugh, but it was mocking. "How can I be ashamed of you, Hermione? You said it yourself - it's not like anyone knows who you are."

"Oh, but you definitely have a problem with me right now," said the other sister, keeping her voice cool. "And I think you have for awhile. Since your third year or so. So - what gives?"

"Nothing!" The denial was quick and sharp.

Hermione slowly nodded. "You know what, Lily? I don't think you quite know yourself. I mean, you pretty much sold out your best friend because he called you a nasty slur-"

"He's a racist! A bigot!" snapped Lily, two spots of red appearing on her cheeks. "He's been hanging around the likes of Mulciber and Travers for _years_ now and doing unspeakable things in the dungeons!"

"He was with those two when they cursed Mary," inserted Marlene, jerking her head to the girl on the bed who froze as all eyes swung to her. "What was it, Mar? A strip tease that would've progressed a lot further if Flitwick hadn't come around?" the teen's cool eyes turned back to Hermione. "A variant of _Imperio_ , I believe the Professors said."

"And was Snape involved in it?" asked Hermione pointedly.

"He stood by," argued Lily hotly.

"But it didn't bother you at the time," replied Hermione, eyes narrowed. "So it was okay then when he was an observer to your _friend and roommate_ forced to give a strip tease - but it's not now. He was still hanging out with Mulciber and Travers when that happened, too. Oh! - It was okay last year when Marlene called you a boyfriend-stealing ginger _cunt_ , if I remember correctly, when Gideon Prewett asked you out, and you forgave her."

Lily breathed heavily in through her nostrils. "That's different."

"You can't have it one way and not the other, Lily," said Hermione quietly. "Either Snape is bad news because he called you a racial slur just as Marlene called you a nasty word because the intentions behind it were both to hurt and harm you - or it's okay with your Gryffindor friends mess up and call you names but not the Slytherin."

"There's a difference to what _he_ said to what _Marley_ said!"

"Really?" Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Also - let's point out that he wasn't even speaking _to_ you - he was speaking to me."

"Yeah, about that," replied Lily hotly, "What gives? You never liked him so why are you suddenly so invested in me staying friends with him?"

"I find it hypocritical," sighed Hermione. "I understand and recognize that being called the equivalent to a racial slur is not the same as being called a cunt, but the intent to harm is the same behind it. It was said because he felt threatened and hurt."

Marlene shifted to glare at Hermione.

Lily began silently to seethe as she clenched her hands at her side. Hermione watched her warily as Lily's green eyes narrowed, recognizing the signs from childhood that Lily was about to unleash her temper. Her voice began to rise as she spoke.

"Why is it okay that you get to have the friend in Slytherin and no one bothers you about it? It's so unfair! Do you honestly think _Regulus Black_ is your friend, Hermione? He's a Pureblood and a Slytherin and a Black - he and his kind look down on people like us! How can you stand there and talk about friendship and hypocrisy?"

"I know very well where I stand with Reg," answered Hermione calmly, but there was a hint of steel in her tone. "Just like I know what people in Slytherin call me when they realize I'm around him. I don't care about being called a mudblood, Lily. I never have."

 _How can I?_ thought Hermione, glancing down at the carpet and then her left arm, where Bellatrix once had Fenrir Greyback hold her down and carve the racial slur into her arm as a reminder of her position in magical society - that she was nothing better than mud, nothing special. Hermione lived with the scar for over twenty years, and she had time to become numb to its meaning and to take it back as a badge of honour that she - a nineteen-year-old Muggleborn girl from Crawley - could scare the shit out of older and more dangerous witches and wizards.

Being called a mudblood was like calling the sky _blue_ \- it rolled off her back now. She had been called that and many other things - and maybe it was just her mental age that gave her the apathetic slant to name-calling. She didn't condone the use of the word, but she did think she was immune to its power over her.

"Oh, spare me," groaned Lily, although it was sneeringly said. She rolled her eyes expressively, and her mouth was pulled down tight into a scowl. "Look at you - Hermione Evans, so removed from everyone and everything that nothing bothers her!"

Hermione blinked. _What?_

Lily caught the facial tick. "What? Like this is news to you? Hermione - you don't _care_ about anyone or anything."

"No-" Hermione found herself shaking her head in denial. "That's not true-"

" _Yes it is_!" shouted Lily back. "Do you know why I don't acknowledge you? Huh? Hasn't the _clever_ and _great_ Hermione figured it out? I'll tell you!" she stepped forward and thrust an accusing finger at Hermione's chest. " _Because you don't care about anyone or anything!_ "

Hermione felt her breath catch in her chest and she aborted a step back in response. Her anger disappeared. _That's not true. Not anymore_.

Lily, however, was on a roll.

"God, I was so _excited_ to introduce you to magic when you first came here! But you didn't _care_ , Hermione, you didn't want to know any spells, you didn't want to know _anything_ about Hogwarts. You get this amazing opportunity, a letter like me inviting you to this exclusive school where there is _magic_!" Lily shook her head, her cheeks flushed red and her emerald eyes sparkling with unshed, frustrated tears. "But instead of wanting to know everything, or enjoying Diagon Alley, what do you do?"

"I-"

"You just get your books and then disappear. You don't gawk or ask questions or seemed awed by this amazing thing!" Lily shouted, her flush growing from her cheeks down her neck and towards the neckline of her shirt. "But _I am_! Magic is this wonderful, gorgeous thing and there you are, all clinical and detached. How could you? _How dare you?_ "

"That's not fair, Lily-" Hermione sputtered, eyes wide.

But Lily did not stop, her chest heaving as she continued to spew her thoughts. "But I thought - _hey, that's my sister_. She's always been a bit weird, never mind! She's never been interested in anything, even at home with mum and daddy! Except when we get to Hogwarts, you don't need my help. You don't want my help."

 _This is a strange echo of Petunia_ , thought Hermione wildly, her eyes wide and her mouth open as she watched her relationship with her sister implode in the Gryffindor dorm.

"And you know what _really_ gets me? What _really_ bothers me, Hermione? You go to Ravenclaw and then _you fucking excel in everything you do!_ Like it's easy or something without any hard work put into studying or practicing magic!"

 _Because it_ is, thought Hermione furiously, her anger roaring back as Lily continued to talk. _Because I have thirty years' experience on everyone here! How dare you belittle my accomplishments because you have to work harder than you thought._

"I struggle and study and work my arse off to do well in my classes because I fucking love magic! I love it! I love this world!" tears began to spill down Lily's cheeks, but she didn't notice. Hermione stared, transfixed.

"But you -" Lily shook her head. "Jesus, Hermione, you don't give a shit about this world! You don't care about grades or magic - you just see it as something with purpose and what it can do for you. You don't _deserve_ the wonder it brings."

Hermione's mouth turned down in a matching scowl. "You don't know what I-"

" _I DON'T CARE!"_

Hermione's mouth snapped closed.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU GET UP TO! I DON'T CARE THAT YOU WRITE TO TUNEY AND SHE ACTUALLY REPLIES AND CARES FOR YOU OR WANTS TO KNOW WHAT YOU GET UP TO!" she furiously stamped her foot on the floor, and her red hair crackled with magic, making Hermione eye her warily. She shifted her stance slightly in case she need to throw a _protego_ up. "I DON'T CARE ANYMORE ABOUT YOU. I DON'T! I DON'T!"

Finally, Lily seemed to lose her steam, but she finished with an icy, "Just go back to Ravenclaw and hang out with your loser friend Crouch. Because you're weird and sociopathic and I can't even stand to look at you."

 _Well._

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and she used that to tilt her chin up in a stubborn, Hermione Granger move that she had never utilized in this time. Ron and Harry, and Neville, Seamus, Dean and Ginny, Fred, George, and even Parvati and Lavender would recognize the move for what it was: the stubborn, furious tilt of a righteously scorned Hermione Granger who was plotting her targeted enemy's downfall - usually Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson or Marietta Edgecombe.

But here - Lily didn't know her. Didn't want to get to know her. Her sister - _by blood_ in this timeline - thought she was weird. A loser. Someone who didn't see the beauty in magic. Who called her a sociopath for not feeling the things she felt.

 _(Not true!_ a part of Hermione wailed in protest. _I feel things too! I feel hurt and anger and rage and love - you're my_ sister _how could you-)_

Hermione may not ever sympathize with Severus Snape for his racial slur in a moment of emotional compromise, but in that moment, she'd happily march up to him and tell him that her sister wasn't worth the effort. With a cold band wrapping around her heart, locking it securely from the feeling of abandonment and betrayal, Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Very well," she replied, coolly, eyeing Lily's form as she panted in exertion from her catharsis. Her eyes swept over the other girls in the room, all frozen and wide-eyed at being front seat spectators to the sisters' fight, and then turned on her heel, stomping down the stone steps to the Common Room.

As soon as she emerged, she wanted to groan, as all eyes swung to her and then immediately moved away. The Gryffindors in the Common Room began talking loudly and obviously about _homework_ of all things, after OWLs and NEWTs were done!

Hermione could've smacked herself in the head for not remembering it sooner - she had left the door open! They had all heard!

But there was one person who didn't move away or talk - rather, he stood transfixed at the bottom of the stairs, staring up with a rigid jaw and flashing hazel eyes as they moved from the darkened space to the weary Ravenclaw.

"... Hermione."

She sighed. "I guess you heard all that, huh, Potter?"

His jaw tensed again and shifted, and Hermione imagined she could hear him grind his molars. His shoulders were tense and he was clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.

"I-" he shook his head and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he opened them, they were fixed firmly on her. "I wanted to speak to you."

"Sure, why not? How about we go up to your dorm room," suggested Hermione, her shoulders falling. "If Black is up there, I can have someone else yell at me, too. I can have a matching gender pair from Gryffindor. Maybe then, I can visit Hufflepuff. I'm sure I've done something to offend them, too."

A stricken look passed over James's face.

"Hermione," he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but quickly withdrew his hand. "Walk with me?"

Hermione glanced up again, taking in his face. There was something fierce in it, with his square jaw, almost jutting out in his annoyance; his jaw was clenched and tight, and she could see his pulse thudding furiously along his neck. His eyes were wide, the hazel a brighter green than brown behind his glasses - but they were pleading, aching to do something.

It was because of that, that she sighed and said, "Yeah. Okay."

He didn't extend his hand and she didn't step forward to meet him, but they turned at the same time and moved toward the back of the Fat Lady's portrait, ever aware of the silence behind them and Hermione's realization that by tomorrow, the entire school will know what Lily thought of her.

 _I just hope that's the biggest news piece for tomorrow, and not Severus Snape being mauled by a werewolf,_ she thought morbidly.

However, once they were through the portrait, Hermione stopped dead, her eyes looking back and forth.

"Is something the matter?" asked James.

"Barty's missing."

Hermione stood, tense. She was still coming off the high from her argument with Lily, and her nerves were wrought with the idea of something happening to her truest friend in this time. Desperate to hide her trembling hands, she crossed her arms and hugged herself tightly as she glanced around the deserted hallway.

Her companion sighed, and muttered, "What I wouldn't give for a map that shows where everyone was."

The comment had Hermione's lips twitch and she glanced at the tall, black-haired teen beside her. "You do realize you could make that, right?"

Startled, Potter turned wide hazel eyes on her. "What?"

"A map? That shows where everyone is?" elaborated Hermione. "Arithmancy. I mentioned the Poincaré theory before, I'm sure."

"I-"

"Oh, you know what? Never mind. I need to find Barty," Hermione broke in, her voice just shy of anxious. She felt the urge to pace. "If you're interested in Poincaré, I'll tell you some books to read, later."

With that said, Hermione strode forward in one direction, aiming toward checking the Ravenclaw dormitory first, and then her practice classroom second. If both those spaces were empty, Hermione would be forced to search a wide spread of areas that Barty would rarely visit - like her, he was a quiet creature that preferred a few locations that he felt comfortable in compared to a vast array of spaces. Many of the places where students could congregate at Hogwarts were meant for socializing, like the dorm common rooms, the Great Hall, or the grounds.

Despite her hurried steps, James kept up with her, nearly on her heels.

 _What could have taken him from waiting for me?_ She wondered, chewing on her bottom lip as her thoughts whirred through her mind. _Barty keeps his promises. He wouldn't have just left without a reason, and he knew I was inside. He knew I hadn't left. So why…?_

It wasn't until they were down another hallway, with the dusky sun going down and casting long shadows that stretched and warped against the dark grey of the stone that James paused and cried, "There!"

Hermione whirled and raced to the teen's side. He was leaning up against one of the thick mullioned windows that overlooked the Hogwarts grounds - particularly, the forest. In the distance, behind the mountains, the sun dipped, turning the sky mottled shades of orange, indigo, and inky blue-black as the stars for that clear night began to appear. Above, the moon - full - was beginning to cast its light.

Hermione's eyes roamed the ground, from Hagrid's hut - Barty wasn't there and there was no smoke coming from the man's home - to the Lake - he wasn't there, either, casting stones toward the Giant Squid - nor was Barty walking the various paths that led back to the school. He wasn't by the gatehouse towards Hogsmeade, which left -

 _NO._

The gut-wrenching, instinctive cry nearly burst from Hermione's mouth and she clenched her hands against the cold stone of the windowsill, her shoulder brushing James' as she leaned forward and nearly brushed her nose against the cold glass.

Barty, with his tall, lithe figure, was dogging the furious steps and pace of a lanky-black haired teen whose Hogwarts robe blended in with the growing darkness. If it weren't for her familiarity with Barty, his straight brown hair, or his harried steps and gait, Hermione would not have been able to guess it was him from the distance.

"Shit," muttered James at her side.

She glanced over and saw that his eyes were bouncing between the two figures and the full moon above them.

"Tell me your friends didn't set Barty up in my place," pled Hermione, turning fully to him, and reaching out to clutch at the sleeve nearest to her. James looked down at her in shock. "Tell me Black didn't!"

"I wouldn't!" protested James. "I would _never_! And as far as I know, neither did Sirius. I sent him after Snape to _stop_ this from happening. I swear, Hermione, I have no idea why those two are together."

Hermione stared at him. "But they're going to the Shack."

James's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, but he wet his lips and stammered, "Oh? And?"

"Don't play stupid. I know _you_ know that Lupin is a werewolf," replied Hermione.

James jerked back out of her grasp and she saw him twitch, an aborted move from going for his wand.

She instinctively reached for hers, her hand hovering outstretched for her wand to slip from its holster around her wrist and into her waiting palm. Hermione kept her eyes focused firmly on James while his bounced nervously between her face and the outstretched hand.

"Easy, Hermione - I wasn't going to curse you," he said slowly, moving his hand away from his side pocket where he kept his wand.

Hermione waited for a beat longer before letting her arm fall to her side; not that it wouldn't take more than a flick for the wand to slide into her hand there, either. She relaxed her stance slightly. "Forgive me if I don't believe you. You and your friends have a habit of cursing students in the hallways."

The pained looked was back on James's face. "Not you."

Hermione made a noise of disagreement. She turned her back on the Gryffindor and began walking away. "Excuse me - I have a friend to rescue."

"I'm going, too."

Hermione whirled on the spot to stare incredulously at James. "What?"

"You're not going alone," he replied, jaw tense. His hazel eyes flashed with something - conviction? Determination? - but he strode past her before Hermione could get a good look. Hermione's mouth had dropped open a bit, and she closed it with a firm click as she followed behind, their steps increasing in pace until they were running by the time they reached the Entrance Hall.

Despite the balmy spring day from earlier, the night was chilled and there was a faint sheen of dew on the grass as the two left the shelter of their school and headed towards the Whomping Willow at the edge of the grounds near the Forbidden Forest.

Their steps were faint, and as James - ahead of Hermione by a few paces - turned around the corner of Hagrid's pumpkin patch (now barren), Hermione followed and felt herself skid and slip with the momentum of her turn.

She gasped loudly as one of her feet fell out from under her, dropping to her knee and skinning it, and her palms, as she braced herself and pushed back up to continue.

James, however, had heard her and stopped, turning in surprise. He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. His hands were warm on her. "Alright, Hermione?"

She nodded. "Thanks."

"C'mon," he muttered, letting go slowly and turning back to the way they were heading. "We don't want to be - late."

Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line. James did not have his wand out, letting the moonlight light their way across the grounds. Hermione followed suit, but she began subconsciously to reach for the magic in the air around her, like she had done earlier in the Room of Requirements and when she had shown Barty and Regulus her ability to manipulate magic.

Shortly, they arrived at a clearing out of sight from Hogwarts, just at the edge of where the Willow had been planted. Its limbs were still, the tree resting. That would change the moment they stepped close. Hermione remembered from her own adventures in her third year with Harry and Ron and the desperation that nipped at her when they had seen the Grim - later revealed as Sirius - drag Ron by the leg into the passage underneath the Willow.

Just as easily, she remembered the knot to push to get the Willow to stop flailing - but without Crookshanks, how were they going to do it?

"Do you - do you think Barty is already in there?" she whispered through bloodless lips. _God, I hope he's okay…_

James's own mouth thinned but the worry in his eyes betrayed the calm tone of his voice. "I'm sure he's fine."

Hermione stared at him.

Flushing under her gaze, James raced forward - and then the Whomping Willow came alive. There were hints - the slow creaks of the bark as the tree began to shift and sway - and then the leaves rustled, there was a whistling noise as the limbs cut sharply through the air and the tree came alive.

James ducked under one thick branch and hopped another. Hermione bit her lip and took a few aborted steps forward, but remained out of reach, her eyes locked on the Gryffindor teen, and his lean figure as he wove and ducked and even rolled in a forward somersault to avoid being hit. It was clear he had practice avoiding the branches.

Then, breathlessly, he pressed up against the thick trunk and began to flail, looking for the knot to freeze the tree. With a slam of his palm, he hit the knot and the Willow paused, its branches outstretched and a few close to whipping James away from its trunk. Hermione darted forward, changing her direction at the last moment when she remembered doing the same to Harry and both of them tumbling down into the passage underneath. She instead slammed into the trunk next to him.

"Blimey, Hermione!" gasped James, stretching a hand out and running it down her back. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. Fine! We need to go!"

He nodded and then ducked down, sliding feet forward between a wide gap in the roots into the tunnel. There, he did withdraw his wand and lit it with a murmured "lumos," just as Hermione slid in behind him. Her pupils went wide, adjusting to the lack of light except for the pinprick of James's wand.

Both stood shock still, for a long, breathless moment as they listened to the creeks of the Willow coming alive above them. Hermione closed her eyes and strained for a bit more, ignoring the sound of her breathing.

 _Barty. Barty, where are you?_ She thought, swallowing thickly. _Please, we can't be too late, please._

Then she heard it, the creeks of floorboards and the soft voices of swears and reprimands, two harsh tones of young men in far over their heads with something that maybe only Snape vaguely understood in his own desire and punish Remus and the other Marauders.

"Let's go," she mouthed to James, who had his own head tilted in the direction of the noise. Hermione was reminded that it was likely he was already an animagus, given the nicknames he and his friends had brandied about; and that stags were able to recognize and hear sounds with a greater field than human ears could.

James nodded, ending the light from his wand and plunging them into darkness. Despite the pitch-black tunnel, Hermione could tell James had moved; but forward or back, she wasn't sure as she was frozen, unable to extend her senses to make her _move_.

Then, a warm hand wrapped around hers. Tingles raced from her palm up her arm and her heartbeat reflected the sudden onset of nerves and anticipation. She felt a flush creep up her cheeks and was thankful that James couldn't tell. There was just something about being in the dark with him. Maybe it was his presence or confidence he wore, as he expertly led her down the tunnel with their feet sending tiny rocks and pebbles skittering away that captivated her.

Hermione didn't remember how long the tunnel was; the last time she and Harry had been down, they were both nearly mindless with worry and fear about Ron. This time, even though she was worried about Barty, about what she was about to walk into ( _a teenage werewolf - a bloody mess - a battle?_ ), she had her mental age, as well as several battles' experience, to draw back on. She took a deep breath.

Then, her breath froze in her lungs as James pressed up to her, his front to hers as he leaned down and in close to her ear. Their bodies were touching from shoulders to stomachs to hips and thighs. Hermione's heart, which had started to calm, racketed up to thundering levels.

"There's a trapdoor coming up," he breathed into her ear, hotly. Hermione blinked and repressed a shiver. "Your friend and Snape are there. We need to move quickly before they open it."

"If they open it…?" Hermione let the question trail.

James's voice was grim when he replied. "Then I'll have Remus to fight off."

Hermione nodded her head once, brushing against his chin and jaw. Taking that was a sign of agreement, James moved away, turning. His hand held in hers, but she knew that would end soon enough, so she slipped her wand into her hand.

They turned a corner, suddenly blinded by the light of both Barty and Snape's wands. Barty was hanging just slightly back from Snape, an irate expression on his face as he scowled deeply and leaned against the rough tunnel wall. Snape, on the other hand, at a feverish expression on his face, his eyes alit with inner conviction as he slung spell after spell at the trapdoor that led into the ground floor of the Shrieking Shack. The iron lock remained latched, the wooden square not even shuddering as each colourful unlocking spell splashed harmlessly against it.

"Why won't it open?" he muttered, just as James launched himself forward, slamming bodily into Snape, crushing him against the slope of the tunnel where it ended.

"Barty!" gasped Hermione, racing forward and launching herself at her friend, whose scowl and crossed arms (and wand) dropped to his sides as she collided with him. "Are you okay? What are you even _doing_ here?"

"Hermione…?"

There was a scuffle and Snape sneering, "Get off me, Potter!"; they both turned to see James being shoved away, tripping over his feet. Hermione caught his arm and steadied him, the three of them facing Snape who was breathing heavily.

"Come to stop me, have you?" the Slytherin taunted, his chest rising and falling with each panted breath. "You can't stop me! I'll see what secret keeps Lupin here once a month! I'll unmask him to the entire school! Then they'll know what a monster he is, and what monsters you are for being in league with such a disgusting creature!"

"Leave Remus alone! He's done nothing to you!" shot back James, brows furrowed.

Snape laughed darkly. "Yes, exactly. He's done _nothing_!"

And before James could reply, the lock on the trapdoor above Snape's head clicked.

Everyone froze, their eyes fixated on the lock.

Then, the wood shuddered, and something that sounded like claws or nails scraped across it.

"Snape," said James, through trembling lips. "Move away. Slowly. Come here."

Snape's dark eyes were locked on the trembling trapdoor above his head, but he obeyed silently and began to take a few tentative steps in their direction.

A loud growl from above had him freeze.

"Snape! _Please_!" begged Hermione, reaching out with a hand. "We need to go!"

But something dark crossed over his face and he let his eyes drift from the trapdoor to Hermione's face. His face twisted into something ugly as he spat, "I came all this way - I won't stop -"

The trapdoor shuddered once more. Above, something howled.

Then the door was pulled back, open.

There was no light in the Shrieking Shack, its windows boarded up and crisscrossed with planks, but even so, the four beneath in the tunnel could see the gleaming amber eyes and the flash of white from sharp teeth.

"Oh fuck," muttered James, eyes wide behind his glasses. Hermione, who still held onto James's side from when she caught him earlier, could feel his entire body spasm underneath her hands. "Move." the word was said quietly, but then he shouted it in her face: " _MOVE_!"

The word broke through the air. Above, Remus in his werewolf form let out an ear-splitting howl and pressed his body through the small opening of the trapdoor, landing nearly on top of Snape who shrieked loudly.

Someone shouted her name - Barty, likely - but both Hermione and James were moving forward, James' form rippling and the red of his uniform turning brown while Hermione swung her wand from the tunnel walls and ripped chunks of loose rock toward Remus, sending them into his side and knocking him off course and away from Snape.

Barty was there, reaching low and dragging a stunned Snape forward just as above them, a large stag, head low and antlers sharp, barrelled into the wolf. There was a loud snort from the stag and the wolf growled in response.

"Let's go let's go let's go!" shouted Hermione, eyes wide as they caught Barty's. They turned as one, with Barty shoving Snape ahead of him. The Slytherin was shaking, his already pale face entirely white as the three scrambled after one another back down the tunnel.

Bits of loose dirt and even some small stones fell from the ceiling around them as the walls shuddered, a few hitting Hermione on her shoulders as she ducked and brought her non-wand hand up to protect her head. Behind them, they could hear the sound of grunts, growls, snorts, and short barks, often timed to the shudders.

There was a yip, and then the sound of claws scrambling on stone.

Hermione met Barty's eyes. The fear in his brown eyes had her turn, jutting her jaw and swinging her wand up as she nonverbally transfigured the loose rocks and hanging roots from plants above them into a stone and wood barrier. It wasn't perfect, the transfiguration shoddy and quick, with irregular gaps between the squares and with some latticed pieces thicker than the others. But it would buy them some time.

Ahead, Snape disappeared beyond their sight. Barty's expressive mouth twisted into a scowl. "Dick," he muttered. He turned to Hermione. "Will that hold?"

"For now," she replied, eyes wide as they began to back up just as a dark shadow moved. Hermione had no time to call out a warning as the shape crashed into her gate, sending shards of wood and rock everywhere. It broke the wolf's momentum, though, and he tumbled headfirst into the floor, scraping the lower part of his jaw against the tunnel's earthen ground. Dazed, the wolf swayed and stumbled as it tried to rise.

"RUN!" Barty shouted.

Hermione wasted no time, nearly skidding on her heel as they raced shoulder-to-shoulder down the narrow tunnel. Hermione could hear Remus's wolf counterpart behind them, the wolf's stench gaining on them.

Just as they spotted the wide, root entrance from the Willow, Barty let out a cry of surprise. Hermione turned - just as Barty went flying into the side of the tunnel, his eyes and mouth wide and open as he stared down at his side. His hand fluttered above the four long gashes, cut through his jacket and sweater to his skin. Blood oozed out thickly.

"Hermione?" he weakly asked, eyes looking at her, just as something heavy slammed into her and sent her sprawling to the ground.

She bit back a scream as she rolled onto her back, staring up at the dripping snout of Moony. His mouth opened and she watched as his gleaming teeth descended.

 _No!_ She cried in her mind and reached for the ambient magic in the ground, soaked with Hogwart's magic that leaked from the castle and permeated the very earth the castle stood on. It was weak, being far from its source, but enough that sparks of fire and electricity raced down Hermione's hand and collated into her fist. She swung.

Moony's wolf face twisted to the side and he whined painfully, the move forcing the majority of his mass off her. It was enough for her to pull back and stand, just as James in his Prongs animagus form, followed by a large black dog skidded to a stop near them. The stag glanced between Barty and herself, tossed his head, and then planted himself firmly between them and the wolf. In the meantime, the dog was nipping at the wolf's legs, making him dance and whine as he was forced from his bloodied prey.

Hermione stumbled the few steps to Barty's side and slung her arm around his back while pulling his non-injured side to hers. Still, he moaned and hissed.

"C'mon, Barty," she whispered, her throat tight. "You can do this. A few steps, a short climb, and I promise everything will be okay."

His glassy eyes focused on her shortly, before shutting, but he nodded. There was a sheen of sweat and his face was pale, a milky-white that Hermione didn't like. Each step was painful and exceedingly slow in Hermione's mind as they moved as one closer and closer to the entrance until they were at the slope.

Hermione bit her lip. _How am I going to get him up? Levitate him?_

Then Snape was there, reaching down through the hole.

"Here!" he shouted, stretching his hands and Hermione wondered at the relief she felt from someone she thought abandoned them. She shoved Barty forward, just as Snape grabbed his arms and hauled him up; Hermione pushed against Barty's bum and legs, and the Ravenclaw teen groaned.

But he was out.

Hermione turned her head, watching as Padfoot and Prongs kept Moony busy, away from them. James must have sensed her look back, because the stag drew up to his full height, antlers scratching the top of the tunnel and bringing rocks down around him as he turned to look at her. His body blocked the entire tunnel from one side to the other, his form massive in the confined space.

She nodded once, and said, "Thank you," before turning and scrambling up the slope.

Snape's hands reached for her, and yanked; she resisted crying out against the sharp pull on her shoulders until she was face-down in the dewy grass, legs still dangling half in the hole behind her. Above, the Whomping Willow remained frozen, but only just.

"We need to go," she muttered to Snape.

The Slytherin teen nodded frantically, once, twice; and together they hauled Barty up and between them, trying to matching their steps as they left the Whomping Willow's clearing, but they only made it to the edge of the clearing when someone interrupted them.

" _What is the meaning of this?!"_

At the furious voice, Hermione, who had been looking down and concentrating on counting her steps, glanced up.

At Barty's other side, Snape froze and between them, Barty's groan of pain merged into a moan of despair.

Just steps from them stood Albus Dumbledore, in a vibrant fuchsia robe with twinkling stars, his blue eyes furious, and his white beard stiff in his anger, the elder wand in his dominant hand nearly thrumming with magic.

Hermione closed her eyes. _Well, maybe the students of Hogwarts_ will _get to hear about more than just my falling out with Lily tomorrow morning, after all._

* * *

 **TBC...**


	10. The Hardest Part

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

X

* * *

"The hardest part about living in the past is that everything you tell everybody will be a lie. It's possible to forget who you really are, and you'll want to reach out, make a connection. I made that mistake. If you get too close, you forget what you came for."

\- Al Templeton, _11/22/63_ , 5: "The Truth"

* * *

Everything came in blurs as they raced toward the Hospital Wing. Hermione smelled the damp, dewy air; there was a chill; the stone of the castle under her feet was hard and uneven; there were shouts and cries of alarm from the portraits as they ran past, Barty's still form bobbing in the air as Dumbledore controlled the spell.

At her side, Severus Snape stood pale.

Then, the Matron, Madam Pomfrey, was there, her wand in her hand, mouth already moving and running off diagnostic spells, one after another that they were almost one long string of Latin. Her face - tense, with prominent lines already carved in it - deepened further as she turned to Hermione and Snape and barked, "What happened to him?"

"I would like to know as well," said Dumbledore in a tightly controlled voice.

Hermione ignored that as she turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Can you help him?"

"If I knew what I attacked him!" the woman replied, in exasperation. "Why, it _looks_ like a werewolf mauled him, but there aren't any wolves around Hogwarts!"

Hermione slowly moved her head to level a glare at Dumbledore, who did fidget for a moment. She then turned back and said, quietly, "It was a werewolf."

"Goodness!" The matron then glanced between her and Snape. "What about the two of you?"

"Barty first," replied Hermione, firmly.

Pomfrey nodded and led the still floating and unconscious form of Barty away, down the lines of empty beds until she reached the end. There, she drew the curtain and began her work. Hermione's eyes tracked her progress, and she locked them on the white curtain that separated her from her best friend.

At her side, Snape was clenching and unclenching his hands - a nervous gesture, she assumed; it wasn't long before Dumbledore turned away from looking at them in disappointment to go to Madam Pomfrey's quarters. Within minutes, both Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick were breathlessly arriving in the hospital wing.

Flitwick made his way directly to Hermione, wringing his hands and looking her up and down as he squeaked, "Oh, my dear, my dear! Are you hurt?"

Hermione shook her head, slowly, and found herself being steered to a nearby bed where she could still see the drawn curtain. Flitwick levitated himself up and sat next to her, taking one of her hands in his and patting it every so often. Behind her, Hermione could hear Slughorn speaking quietly to Snape, although the other teen refused to answer.

A pricking of her magic warned Hermione that someone was staring at her. She turned her head a bit and caught Dumbledore's mouth turned down in a deep frown under his white mustache. Hastily, Hermione turned her head away, throwing up whatever shields she had learned as a Ministry employee to combat against a Legilimency master's probe.

Dumbledore's frown deepened.

Snape's shaking slowly started to fade, until he was sitting on his bed next to Hermione, staring down at his hands, encrusted in dirt and blood. His long hair was dishevelled and - Hermione bit her lips to stop an inappropriate laugh - there was a twig stuck near the back. He was paler than normal, and his robes were torn, covered in dirt and grass stains.

Hermione knew she was a sight, too. Remus in his Moony form had nearly ripped her throat out; parts of her uniforms were covered in the greyish spots of dried werewolf saliva. She had scraped her hands and knees at two different points during the frantic run through the tunnels under the Shrieking Shack, and she knew she had Barty's blood, as well as hers, mixed on her clothing.

Eventually, the lights from the wall torches flickered and dulled as the sun began to peak, spilling across the stone floors in a gentle hue of golden honey. The gloom from the evening began to fade, but the gloomy atmosphere in the hospital wing remained, as Hermione wedged her hands between her knees and gripped her fingers tightly to stop them from wringing. Madame Pomfrey had yet to emerge from behind the curtain where Barty was, and Hermione's nerves were beginning to fray.

At some point, Dumbledore whispered quietly to Flitwick, and the two disappeared after asking Slughorn to keep watch, which the man did with a solemn nod.

When they reappeared, a sickly Remus hung between them, eyes darting back and forth in the hospital wing. Behind, followed James, Sirius, and Peter, each covered with gashes; James' glasses were broken and Peter had a nasty head wound, still bleeding while Sirius limped, hanging off of James. Behind them, McGonagall appeared, her lips pressed into a very tight, thin line.

Dumbledore's expression - one that was of firm disapproval when he had seen her, Barty, and Snape - was now unbridled fury. The very air was tense and thick with his magic as it vibrated, echoing his emotions. Hermione could feel her own magic wanting to respond, with Hogwarts at her fingertips ready to rise in response, but she pushed it down and back.

 _Hide, hide, hide_ , she told herself, whispering to her magic and pushing it down, imagining a lid slamming shut and throwing away a lock.

Flitwick's eyes were shrewd as they darted between Remus - whom the staff knew was a werewolf - to that of Hermione and Snape, Barty behind the curtains, and then the other Marauders. Slughorn's mouth had dropped open, and his eyes were wide as he took in the four Gryffindors.

"I donnae where to begin," rumbled McGonagall, her voice rolling between a thick Scottish burr in her anger and the low growl of an angry cat.

Shamefaced, James helped Sirius sit down on the bed opposite Hermione, gingerly sitting with him while Peter took the one behind, furthest from the professors as he made himself small behind the broad shoulders of the two black-haired teens. Flitwick and Dumbledore gently placed Remus in the bed opposite of Snape, who blinked once and then tucked his chin against his chest as he looked down at his lap.

Slughorn, from Snape's side, placed a heavy hand on the teen's shoulder. Snape slowly turned to look up at him, a blank expression on his face as he did so. The professor began, "Now, Severus, m'boy-"

"HERMIONE? BARTY?"

The hospital wing doors banged open. Hermione's head jerked up as the doors banged off the wall as Regulus Black stormed in. His hair, shorter than Sirius', was in disarray, his tie was askew, and his shirt wrinkled. There were stress lines around his mouth as his wide grey eyes took in the sight of four professors and the six teenagers on various beds. Regulus' eyes lingered briefly on Sirius as they alit on his older brother, blinking in surprise.

"Reg-"

Then they skipped over him and went straight to Hermione, zeroing in on her and striding purposefully across the tile as he ignored the professors.

"Regulus-" broke in Slughorn, but stopped when the young Black heir shot him a glare that made the made snap his mouth shut so forcefully his jaw quivered.

"Mr. Black, _what_ are you doing here?" asked an exasperated McGonagall as the teen walked past her, but huffing from the door had the others turn back.

James yelped in surprise, " _Lily_?"

 _Oh, wonderful,_ thought Hermione sourly, mentally sighing and bringing her hands to her head to cradle it as she dug her fingers through her curls.

Hermione's redheaded sister was leaning against the doorframe, out of breath and emerald eyes wide as she took in those in the hospital wing.

" _Man_ , you can - _huff_ \- run fast - _huff_ \- when you want - _huff_ \- Black," she gasped, slowly straightening. As she took in everyone in the room, their eyes locked on her, she gave a tiny, gasping, "Oh!"

" _Hermione_ ," the Slytherin said, eyes on hers as he came to a stop just a foot from her on the bed. He spoke forcefully, but Hermione could hear the tremble. "Where's Barty? Where is he? Is he well?"

Unbidden, Hermione's eyes darted to the taut curtain at the far end of the hospital wing, where Barty lay. Regulus' eyes followed and he slightly swayed. Hermione's hand shot out and she reached for Regulus'. He changed their grips so that he was tightly clutching at her hand.

Slowly, Lily edged into the hospital wing, moving toward Hermione as Dumbledore turned a frown on Regulus. "That is what _we_ would like to know, Mr. Black." He turned back to Hermione, Snape, and then the four Marauders. "Who would like to start?"

"Start?" echoed Lily, her voice quiet as she slid into the spot between Hermione's bed and Snape's, her back to her ex-best friend. Snape's dark eyes trailed on Lily, fixated on her back as she blatantly ignored him. "Hermione, what happened last night? What's going on?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. _Lily_ wanted to know what happened after she loudly proclaimed she didn't care what Hermione got up to? _The_ nerve, thought Hermione, suddenly furious.

Instead, she stared at her sister, tightening her mouth into a tight line before she deliberately turned to Regulus. "I haven't been told anything since we got here about Barty."

Regulus's face pinched.

"Hermione?" Lily made a move to touch her sister's shoulder but aborted the move. "Are you hurt?"

The Ravenclaw glanced up and said, shortly, "No, not really."

"You're covered in dirt! And blood!" argued Regulus, his voice low. "Has no one even cast _scourgify_ or _tergeo_?"

Hermione shook her head, squeezing Regulus' hand. She let her voice drop into a low murmur, "It's fine."

The other Black - the Slytherin one - scowled.

"Whose blood is this?" asked Lily, her own voice thin and reedy as she stared down at her little sister. "Hermione - if it's not yours-?"

"Some of it is mine," she confirmed, very aware that everyone else was listening. "Most of it is Barty's."

"Oh - Oh, God…" Lily's eyes widened. "Is there -" concerned warred with her annoyance at her sister, and Hermione watched as Lily tried to reign in her emotions from the previous night with the knowledge that her sister was hurt and her best friend even more so. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, I'm fine," replied Hermione, her words clipped. She levelled a hard look at the Gryffindor. "Thanks."

Lily's mouth opened, but whatever she was going to say was abruptly stopped as Madam Pomfrey emerged from the drawn curtain around Barty's bed. Immediately, Hermione shot to her feet, nearly tripping in her haste but Regulus steadied her. Together, they turned and presented a united from with Professor Flitwick hastily skipping forward as well.

"How is he?"

"What happened to Barty?"

The two teenager's voices tumbled over each other as they spoke, their words mingling. Pomfrey glanced between the two, their pinched faces and furrowed, worried brows, and then turned to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, perhaps this conversation is best had among the professors?"

McGonagall nodded decisively. "Yes, of course. Come along, Miss Evans, Mr. Black; you'd both best get to breakfast, and then begin packing. The Express will leave tomorrow and I'm sure there are things you need to finish before then."

Lily immediately backed away, nodding at her Head of House. She mustered a wobbly, pained smile at Hermione, which faded quickly, and then left the hospital wing.

"Mr. Black?" the Scottish witch's burr thickened as the tones delved into a bit of anger of being disobeyed.

"I'm not leaving my friends," he replied stubbornly, not even turning his head toward her, staring hard at Pomfrey.

"Quite right, too!" chirped Flitwick, although there was a gravity to his face that Hermione rarely remembered seeing except for the night of the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998.

With a Head's blessing, Pomfrey sighed; her face was paler and more worn than Hermione remembered from earlier in the evening when they first appeared, and the healer nodded wearily. She turned to the professors, many who clustered together near where Snape sat.

"Professor Slughorn, I will need you to replenish my potions stores," she began. "Particularly healing salve, blood replenishing, and essence of dittany."

Sirius swore under his breath, but in the quiet of the hospital wing, all heard it.

Slughorn's face was grave when he nodded. "As soon as possible, m'dear."

"How is Mr. Crouch doing, Madam Pomfrey?" asked Flitwick, his normally chipper voice - his excited squeaks and enthusiastic cadences - near flat. "What happened to him?"

James and Sirius leaned in toward Remus, who looked up, his face solemn and tense, like a prisoner waiting for the proclamation of his trial verdict. The fidgeting of his hands on the blanket of the bed was another indication of how nervous he was.

"Mr. Crouch was attacked by a werewolf," the healer said, carefully not looking at the Gryffindor teenagers.

 _So, you know,_ thought Hermione, eyes narrowing. Just _how many_ professors and employees at Hogwarts were aware of Dumbledore's decision to allow Remus to attend Hogwarts? She had nothing against the Gryffindor teen at all, but there were several glaring inconsistencies regarding safety when she had attended Hogwarts the first time around, and it wasn't pretty learning that Dumbledore was always so blasé or ignorant of safety measures towards his students in _any_ time.

From his side of the room, Remus collapsed in on himself, burrowing his head in his hands. There was a pained moan from him, and all colour that Hermione could see between his fingers was that of a sickly green.

The Matron continued, "Mr. Crouch will make a full recovery, but the marks on his chest and hip will scar. Despite it being a full moon, he was _not_ bitten and therefore is not a werewolf. He will, however, have lupine traits going forward."

"And what will that entitle?" asked Flitwick.

Hermione already knew; she had seen it in Bill Weasley after Greyback's attack. She closed her eyes as Madam Pomfrey's voice and explanation washed over her: "Enhanced senses, heightened emotions, a craving for things a bit more raw, meats-"

There was a gagging noise and Remus barely had time to shove Sirius away as he leaned over the bed and threw up.

"Mr. Lupin!" gasped McGonagall, waving her wand and vanishing the mess but not the smell. She did another wave and that disappeared, too. But the teen did not move, half bowed over the bed as he sucked in deep gasps of air.

Sirius pressed a hand on his back only for it to be violently shoved off. The Black took a startled step back, eyes wide.

Dumbledore's eyes cut toward the teenager, and then back at Snape and Hermione. His voice was flat when he asked without any inflection, sternly, "What. Happened."

When no one spoke, the air around them in the hospital wing thickened, like humidity before a summer storm would break, and his voice rumbled in low warning. " _Now_."

Hermione looked down, peeking from under her lashes at the Gryffindors opposite her as they too, looked around or down at the ground. Even Snape, who would normally be the first to point a finger at James Potter or Sirius Black, kept his mouth shut.

Eventually, James shifted, and Hermione knew he was about to speak, to take any and all blame for what happened the previous night. His mouth opened, but it was not his voice Hermione heard.

"It's my fault."

Regulus's head whipped around so fast that his entire body moved and Hermione stumbled forward in response as they both stared at Sirius, who stepped forward, a grim look on his face. He took a thick swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in response. His eyes were determined, however, and Hermione felt the first stirrings of good feelings toward the teen for the first time since the lake-side confrontation.

James turned to look at Sirius for a breathless second. He turned back to the professors, and squared his shoulders. "No, it's mine."

Comically, McGonagall and Slughorn's head bounced back and forth between the two, while Flitwick narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Hermione could not see Dumbledore's from her angle, half-blocked by Regulus, but she was sure they were twinkling when his pawns did something he appreciated.

"Mr. Black," began McGonagall, hesitantly, "Mr. Potter-"

"I helped," said the most unlikely of all people, and this time, Hermione's jaw dropped as Peter - the timid, shy teen who hid behind Sirius and James earlier, slid off his bed and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with them.

"No," said a weak voice, and Remus hauled himself off his bed from behind them, one hand on James's and Sirius's shoulders and he pressed between them. James turned his body to angle towards Remus, slipping an arm around his friends' broad shoulders to help him steady. "I'm a werewolf." There was a firm look of resigned resolution on his face, the facial slashes a stark white against his skin as he proclaimed his creature status. "It's my fault."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes, and mutter, "It's hardly your fault because of your affliction, Lupin -"

"Oh, _of course_ , you'd take their side!" sneered Snape, turning toward her.

"How dare you-!" began a furious Regulus, and then the seven of them were shouting over one another, accusations flying across the room.

" _-He didn't ask to be a werewolf!"_

" _-Always taking each other's sides, I don't know why I'd expect any differently-"_

" _Who was the fool who listened to Sirius Black?"_

" _-Thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart-"_

" _Don't project your own insecurities, Snape-"_

"ENOUGH!"

The room went silent, and the teenagers sullenly turned to face Dumbledore, his voice cracking through theirs. "Mr. Lupin - how did this come about?"

Under their Headmasters' stern glare, and being singled out, Remus gulped and then straightened, his eyes closing briefly as he began: from the beginning of the year, Snape had hinted that he knew what Remus was, always dropping hints in the hallways whenever they'd cross paths.

Sirius broke in, "Please. He was threatening Remus! He'd call him a creature, a freak, a monster. Remus wouldn't hurt anyone-"

"Oh, but he _did_ ," sneered Snape, glaring hatefully across the room at Sirius, who snarled back.

"And whose fault was that?" the eldest Black shot. "Crouch wasn't even supposed to be there-"

"How is Mr. Crouch involved?" asked Flitwick, his frown deep as he interrupted the two. "And Miss Evans here?"

A few eyes turned to Hermione, who flushed and fidgeted, but Sirius took one look at her and miserably said, "It was me."

Hermione glanced up in surprise.

"It was me," repeated Sirius, glancing away from everyone. "I was… angry. I let my anger get the best of me, and I taunted Snape. I - I got an owl from home, and it…" He turned a very embarrassed red and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor. "I realize now how stupid I was-"

Snape snorted, and Sirius slammed his mouth shut.

James, pained, said quietly, "Sirius taunted Snape by the lake after our Defense OWL. It… got a bit heated, and Lily kind of…" he winced, glancing at Sirius before forging on, "made things worse. Hermione managed to get Sirius to stop, to turn and walk away when Snape called her a -" James stopped, glancing at Hermione. She looked back. "He called her," his voice dropped, "a _mudblood_."

McGonagall hissed, and Slughorn turned a disappointed stare on his charge, who squirmed slightly under the attention, two bright spots appearing on his cheeks.

Dumbledore, looking hard at Snape, turned back to James. "Please continue, Mr. Potter."

Swallowing, James nodded. "There was… some posturing and Sirius-"

"I told Snape and Hermione to come to the Shrieking Shack at midnight if they wanted to know the truth," finished a miserable Sirius.

"You _dinnae_ ," gasped McGonagall, turning a furious glare on Sirius.

Flitwick, near Regulus and Hermione, glanced up at his Ravenclaw and muttered, "oh dear, oh dear."

"We immediately went back to the dorms to tell Sirius off," James immediately rushed forward with the story, his voice rising earnestly. "He shouldn't have done it; we all knew it. _He_ knew it."

Sirius nodded, and Remus glanced at his friend from the corner of his eyes as he said, quietly, "I told him to find Snape and apologize. We all did."

"Did you?" asked Dumbledore, peering over his half-moon spectacles at Sirius.

Peter nodded. "I went with him. We looked _everywhere_ but couldn't find Sniv-uh, Snape at all. Then it got late so we decided to go to the-"

Sirius shot Peter a glare so fierce the teen squeaked and firmly clamped his mouth shut, realizing what he almost admitted to regarding their animagus abilities. Hermione watched as James put a hand on Remus's shoulder, the other one that had supported him stretching to touch Sirius, who slumped.

"We went to the Shack to cut Snape off," said Sirius, his voice monotone. "No one was there except Remus, so Pete and I thought to wait."

Slughorn, horrified, asked in a strangled voice, "You remained with Mr. Lupin while he transformed?"

Sirius shrugged. "He wouldn't hurt us-"

"A werewolf's nature is to harm any human-" interrupted Madam Pomfrey.

"Well, we weren't human," finished Sirius, jutting his chin out stubbornly.

There was a brief moment of silence then broken by Snape who rose to his feet and let out a triumphant, " _HA_! I knew it! I knew you had done something illegal! Unregistered animagi!"

However, whatever he was feeling was mitigated as Slughorn reared back in surprise and then surveyed the four Gryffindors with appraising eyes. "Unregistered animagi? At your ages? How impressive!"

"Horace!" chided McGonagall and Flitwick, both turning to glare at him.

The man shrugged, while Dumbledore sighed. "What happened then?"

Sirius and Peter looked at each other, with Peter reaching up to scratch his nose nervously. "The latch to the tunnel under the shack undid itself."

 _Likely story,_ thought Hermione, remembering everything Snape had lobbied at the latch when they arrived. _Someone undid it._

But Sirius's confused expression made Hermione pause. She glanced at Regulus, who was staring at both Sirius and Peter, his eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

Peter continued, "Moony - er, Remus - was pretty bothered by what was under us, so we tried to stop him, but…"

"He got through," finished Sirius, glancing at those across the beds from him, lingering on Regulus and Hermione. "We transformed and followed him, only to see him going after Snape, Crouch, and Hermione."

The professors turned to Hermione and Snape, now.

"Yes, Miss Evans, Mr. Snape," began Dumbledore, but his voice wasn't nearly as angry as it had been earlier, "How did you come to be in the tunnel under the Shack?"

"That was me," began James, and he launched into his coming down from the dorm room, finding Hermione ready to leave the Gryffindor Common Room after speaking to Lily - Hermione had to give him points for not mentioning their fight, but she was sure the professors would learn about it shortly, with the way the gossip mill at Hogwarts ran - to them searching for Crouch and then finding him crossing the grounds with Snape.

By the time James came to the point where they arrived in the tunnel, telling Snape to back away, all Hermione could focus on was why Barty went with him. At what point did Snape come up to the Gryffindor common room, and how did he convince Barty to go with him? Her friend knew she was still in the room - and Barty disliked Snape - he disliked everyone that wasn't her or Regulus - and there would be no way he'd go anywhere with the Slytherin.

So _why_?

"-that's when I saw Moony break though Hermione's barrier - wood went everywhere and he tumbled right past them - and then slashed at Crouch. He turned on Hermione next, and Sirius and I caught his attention to give her time to get Crouch out," finished James, glancing at her although she was too distracted to realize that he avoided mentioning her punch the werewolf.

"Snape showed up," admitted a rather disgruntled Sirius, crossing his arms. "He helped pull Crouch out and then Hermione afterward."

The Headmaster sighed, looking every inch his hundred-plus age when he turned to the last silent student who was involved and had yet to contribute. Hermione felt the weight of his stare and glanced at him, but deftly avoided his eyes and any potential Legilimency attacks.

"I see," he said, quietly. "And Miss Evans? Is there anything you want to add?"

"Yeah," said Hermione slowly. She turned to Snape, and levelled him the most dead-eye stare she'd ever given anyone in her life and asked, "Why _the fuck_ was Barty with you?"

"Miss Evans!" McGonagall's scandalized voice stopped Snape from any reply - although the Slytherin merely stared back at Hermione, his thin lips pressed into a tight line. He was breathing heavily through his nose and his dark eyes glittered in the mid-morning sun, but he did not move or attempt to answer her.

"I cannot begin to explain to you how dangerous last night was," began Dumbledore, levelling those involved with a steely look. "Young Mr. Crouch has suffered greatly and will carry the scars of last night for the rest of his life."

Remus looked sick again and seemed to wilt on himself, forcing James to haul him up.

"The six of you _will_ be punished for your actions," the man continued, and McGonagall nodded at his side, looking every inch the stern deputy Headmistress that she was. Both Flitwick and Slughorn were equally grave, but both were curious, as it seemed that Dumbledore was making the decisions on his own without any Head of House input. Madam Pomfrey took the time to step away, out of the line of sight.

"Classes are over and as such, there is no point in assigning detentions," the man began, and McGonagall's agreeing nods stopped as she turned to stare at him. Peter smiled brightly. " _However_ , we will revisit this idea after the summer when you return for your sixth and fifth years, respectively, as you will have time to reflect on your actions from last night."

Peter's smile dropped.

"Headmaster?" prompted McGonagall quietly as the man fell silent, looking at them in turn.

Hermione swallowed nervously, feeling her hands turn sweaty. _I spent so long staying out from your gaze, and now look where I am._

Regulus squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"Like Mr. Crouch, Mr. Lupin here is a victim of circumstance," began the Headmaster slowly. Remus looked up, shock and wonder crossing his face. "As he hardly went out looking for human flesh, I find it unfair to have Mr. Lupin's - _nature_ \- revealed."

"What!" burst out Snape, rising from his seat on the bed.

"Indeed, Mr. Snape," the man said, turning to him. There was a hardness to his eyes when he spoke next. "As Mr. Lupin is nearly done his education, and this was his only - lapse, so to speak - I think we can continue to allow him to attend Hogwarts while myself and the professors update some security issues for future full moons."

"He's a beast! An animal!" protested Snape, throwing a hand out at the Gryffindor, who quailed.

"Shut it, Snape!" shouted a furious Sirius.

Snape turned to Sirius and went to reply, but sparks erupted from Dumbledore's wand, and he sullenly turned back to the Headmaster.

"I will require an Unbreakable Vow, Mr. Snape," the man said, his voice quiet. "And from you as well, Miss Evans, Mr. Black - to keep Mr. Lupin's secret." Both Sirius and Regulus started, but Sirius quickly realized that the Headmaster wasn't looking at him.

At her side, Regulus stiffened. "Of course, Headmaster," he said in a rather stiff, formal tone that Hermione immediately could tell meant that he wasn't happy with the outcome.

"That's not necessary!" exclaimed James, making everyone turn to him in surprise. "Hermione's trustworthy! She already knew about Remus and his secret but hadn't told anyone."

"And Reg won't say anything," continued Sirius, a stare levelled - and met and replied to - at his brother. Regulus's face smoothed from expression.

"I will not take that chance," replied Dumbledore, glancing between the two Gryffindors and the Ravenclaw and Slytherin opposite them. "Now - Miss Evans? Would you care to go first?"

Hermione bit her lip and then sighed, stepping forward. "If I must."

Dumbledore's cold blue eyes bore into hers quickly before she darted them away. "You must," he replied, and then she stood opposite the man, her right wrist out as an unhappy Professor Flitwick served as their bonder. Hermione watched the yellow flames of the promise weigh on her wrist until it sank into her skin, her magic protesting the secret she was forced to keep on pain of death.

Regulus went next; Snape, last. Both Slytherins wore equally perturbed looks that disappeared as their Head of House - Slughorn - worked as their bonder. His disappointment was easy to read, but Hermione wasn't sure if he was disappointed at their lack of full agreement with Dumbledore, or for being put in the situation of a forced Unbreakable Vow, to begin with.

Hermione found herself back on the bed, idly rubbing the unmarked skin around her right wrist as she watched with unseeing eyes as Regulus and Snape took their vows; opposite her, McGonagall was thickly berating James, Sirius, and Peter, talking about issuing detentions regardless of it being the end of the year.

"We can sort that out when they return in the autumn, Minerva," broke in Dumbledore, a twinkle back in his eyes. "Now, there is something else-"

"Something _else_?" groaned Sirius.

"Yes, Mr. Black, something else," said Dumbledore, his mouth twitching under his mustache. "Why, the life debts many of you created last night."

Hermione's head sharply turned to Dumbledore. _You can't seriously begin to-_

"Miss Evans and Mr. Potter went to the Shrieking Shack to save Mr. Crouch and Mr. Snape; there is a debt there," the headmaster explained with his twinkle on full as he glanced between a slack-jawed James, a narrow-eyed Hermione, and then a furious Snape. "Of course, then Miss Evans and Mr. Crouch saved Mr. Snape-"

"Wait," muttered Peter, "I'm confused. Who saved who and who has what debt now?"

"Whom," muttered Hermione, causing Regulus to tug sharply at their still connected hands in reprimand. She scowled briefly but then sighed.

"Ah yes," agreed Dumbledore, "It _is_ tricky, is it not? Mr. Snape owes Miss Evans a life debt. I do believe there is a minor one owed to Mr. Potter from Mr. Snape as well."

Sirius wriggled his eyebrows as he nudged James in the side; but his best friend edged away with Remus, looking away from his best friend. Sirius's wriggling eyebrows stopped and his face fell.

"Of course, there is also another owed to Mr. Crouch by Mr. Snape," continued Dumbledore, smiling at the group, many who looked back at him blankly.

"What?" Snape looked near apocalyptic.

"Why," beamed Dumbledore, while Slughorn looked on with a twisted mouth, "Mr. Crouch also tried to help you, Mr. Snape - especially as you left him and Miss Evans. Of course, there is an equal debt that he owes _you_ for helping him. Miss Evans would've had one toward you, but she did save you by using magic to protect you and Mr. Crouch from Mr. Lupin's werewolf form."

Then, his eyes turned to Hermione. Hastily, Hermione threw all her ill-willed thoughts about the Headmaster behind a barrier far thicker than what she conjured the other night, and then layered nonsensical memory after nonsensical memory to ensure the man didn't catch a stray thought.

"I hope you use your debt wisely, Miss Evans," the man said, "As not only does Mr. Snape owe you a debt, but so does Mr. Crouch. You undoubtedly saved his life last night - and having such a debt might come in hand at a later time."

Hermione fought to keep a scowl off her face, grinding her teeth instead. _Is he referencing Voldemort here?_

The man turned his smile on the teenagers, and Hermione tuned out the man's speech of the power of friendship, working together, and putting aside differences. There was some variation, but it was eerily similar to the speech he gave in her fourth year when Cedric Diggory died.

"-and finally," he finished, making her nearly inaudibly sigh in relief, while Regulus sent her a tiny smirk from the corner of his mouth as he glanced quickly at her, "We have points to award!"

"Pardon me?" squeaked Flitwick, while Slughorn blinked in surprise.

"Albus, surely-" McGonagall tried to speak, but Dumbledore waved a genial hand and she fell silent, her mouth a small 'o' in shocked surprise.

"Yes, points," the man said, turning first to Peter. "To Mr. Pettigrew, I award ten points for being steadfast and true as a friend."

Peter preened while the other teenagers looked on in confusion.

"To Mr. Black, twenty-five points for recognizing his faults and attempting to make amends." The teen in question blinked in shock, and then a slow, confused but happy smile spread across his face as he looked around the room.

A hysterical laugh tried to bubble up in Hermione's throat. _Is he really doing this? Is this really happening?_ she thought, eyes wide, as the Headmaster turned to James, who froze.

"Fifty points to Mr. Potter, for his display of bravery and courage in the face of danger-"

Hermione bit down hard on her lips and Regulus squeezed her hand tightly, his knuckles turning white - not in comfort this time, but anger.

"-and twenty-five to Miss Evans for inner-house cooperation," the Headmaster said, turning to smile at her, while Hermione stared back. "And _another_ twenty-five to Ravenclaw for her bravery and courage in the face of danger." His smile was nearly beatific. "Miss Evans, you are a credit to your House, and had the Hat not put you in Ravenclaw, I'd imagine we'd be seeing you in Gryffindor instead!"

"Albus!" snapped Flitwick, his thick and bushy eyebrows down in a V.

"And, finally," the man said, and Hermione could see Snape straighten up, a hopefully glean to his eyes as he looked at the man despite the Headmaster not looking at him, "fifteen to Mr. Crouch of Ravenclaw, for inner house cooperation and doing what was right."

Hermione watched as Snape sagged, his exclusion obvious. _This wasn't right,_ she thought, taking a deep breath. _No one should've been awarded points, and if we were, then Snape deserved some as well for coming back for Barty and me._

"C'mon," muttered Regulus, turning to Hermione. "If you don't need anything, we're being dismissed."

She had been lost in her thoughts; she hadn't seen Dumbledore leave, but he had, with McGonagall at heel, leaving her Gryffindor students behind to huddle together around Remus. The atmosphere in the hospital wing was odd in response, with there a heaviness to it that had not been there before the awarded points.

A solemn Slughorn clapped Snape on the shoulder and the teen looked at him balefully. "Let's go, Severus," the older potions master said, his voice very quiet, and very carefully modulated. Snape nodded.

Slughorn turned to Regulus, a question in his face, but Regulus shook his head. Hermione could read her friends' face easily: he wanted to stay with her and Barty. Slughorn read it too, and nodded; then, he and Snape were gone.

"Reggie-"

Regulus turned, spotting Sirius a few feet away, a cautious look on his face.

Sirius took a step forward. "Reggie - you have to believe me - I know my anger - but the points, it wasn't my idea -"

"Sirius," said Regulus through his teeth. He breathed in through his nose and exhaled noisily. "You're my brother, but right now I can't even _look_ at you."

The eldest Black looked like he'd been badly hexed, reeling back with wide, pained eyes. He looked around, at Regulus, at Hermione, and even Flitwick for support, but found none. Instead, he gave his brother a tight smile and nod, and retreated to his friends, where James and Peter were speaking lowly to Remus.

"Miss Evans," said Flitwick, catching her attention and making her look down at him, "Perhaps it's best if you return to your dorm now?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. No, thank you, Professor - but I'm going to stay. I'm going to stay with Barty."

"Me too," agreed Regulus quietly, causing Flitwick to survey him.

The charms professor was quiet for a long, long moment, but then nodded, his eyes turning back to his Ravenclaw student. There was approval in his face, a softening to it that she hadn't seen all night since he appeared in the hospital wing.

He reached forward and patted Hermione on her hand, and squeaked, "Of course, dear."

Sighing, Hermione collapsed back onto the bed, untangling her hand from Regulus' as she did so. She felt so tired, absolutely exhausted from more than just her long twenty-four-hour wakefulness, but because of the emotional wringer she had just gone through.

"Hermione…"

Her head slowly rose. James opened his mouth, but then shut it, his hazel eyes running over her. He then sighed, running a hand through his hair, messing it up further as he looked away. "Never mind."

He turned and retreated the same way Sirius had, and with a few muttered words, Peter and Sirius were leaving with him. Alone, Remus looked small and pale, and when he felt Hermione's eyes on him, he glanced at her. His amber eyes - similar in colour to hers, how had she never noticed that? - widened in alarm, and he hurriedly twisted over onto his side, presenting his back to her and Regulus as he drew the bed sheet up and tight.

She sighed. _I think it's time I acquaint myself with Remus._ But as she and Regulus stood, walking over to the curtain that separated Barty from everyone else, she finished with: _tomorrow._

* * *

Hermione poked at her porridge the next day, alone at the Ravenclaw table for the first time in four years; without Barty at her side, she felt exposed, like there was a gaping, open wound at her side.

The knowledge of _why_ she felt that way made her scowl into her bowl.

The entire school was running amuck with rumours of what happened the night before; everyone knew that Lily exploded on Hermione - the young, time travelling Ravenclaw's ability to be invisible was now blown out of the water, and she'd be incapable of hiding in her protective shell of invisibility. James' own part in the argument had been taken out of context, especially as many Gryffindors had seen him not only tell off the others in the common room but leave with Hermione; it began a slew of new rumours of an Evans' sister love triangle with Potter in the middle.

Hermione disliked that rumour; she knew that James and Lily were supposed to get married if Harry was to exist one day - and Hermione desperately needed her best friend in her life. But so much had already changed - had she threatened Harry's existence? What would her room-provided best friend say to her concerns now?

She could feel the sensation of numerous eyes on her being, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck tingling in warning.

"Hermione." Looking up, Regulus loomed over her, causing those around her to stop talking to stare unashamedly. "It's time to go. Are you ready?"

In response, Hermione put down her spoon and pushed her barely-eaten porridge away. She stood, joining her friend as they crossed the Great Hall, passing by the Hufflepuff table and then, lastly, the Gryffindor one.

Hermione kept her head forward but she was acutely aware of her sister's eyes on her as she passed. It was only when she was nearly at the door did she chance a glance back, and saw Lily's miserable expression at her plate morph into annoyance as Marlene whispered at her.

She sighed and followed Regulus to the hospital wing.

Inside, Remus was long gone, having escaped after a day spent in the room to his dormitory; currently, Barty was the only occupant.

He was also awake and sitting up.

"Barty!"

Hermione was barely conscious of moving; one second she was at the hospital wing doors, Regulus at her side, and the next she had her arms wrapped around Barty's wiry frame as he chuckled hoarsely and muttered, "ouch!"

She drew back and shakily whispered, "Sorry," surprised to learn that there were tears in her eyes and a wobble to her voice as she did so.

Alarmed, Barty glanced from her to Regulus, who stood beside her as she drew back, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets with a very somber face. "I - what happened?" Barty looked back and forth between them. His voice rose. "What happened? There was a -"

He stopped. His memory caught up to him and then his breath stuttered and he paled. His round eyes - already wide - went wider as he looked between his two friends, his breaths turning into gasps as he struggled to sit up, trying to get out of bed and _move_. "Merlin. _Oh, Merlin_ \- am I - I'm a - _I'm going to be sick_ -"

"Calm down," soothed Regulus, leaning forward and putting a hand on either side of Barty's shoulders, pushing him back.

Barty gasped, struggling.

"Barty," Regulus said, firmer, as Hermione leaned forward and grabbed one of Barty's flailing hands. "Listen to me. You're not a werewolf."

Barty stilled immediately, staring at Regulus. "What?" he whispered.

Regulus lips pursed. "You're not a werewolf, Barty-"

"But," he stopped and looked down at his chest. His hospital wing robes had opened in his struggle, revealing his pale chest and the blood-tinged bandages wrapped around his middle. He looked back up in confusion. "But?"

Hermione and Regulus shared a look and Hermione gingerly sat on Barty's bed, by his hip. She laced their fingers together, tugging until Barty looked at her. "You're not a wolf but you _were_ slashed by one the other night. You'll have some lupine traits from now on."

Barty remained silent for so long that Regulus and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, through bloodless lips and wide, terrified eyes, "Do my parents know?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked away, while Regulus shook his head. "No. Dumbledore is keeping everything secret."

"But-?" the question on Barty's lips never formed, as realization dawned on him. He looked away, and Hermione resolved immediately that _she'd_ never use Barty as leverage or a pawn, the way Dumbledore was potentially keeping him for. And by the gleam in Regulus' eyes, Hermione knew he felt the same way.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express was crowded as Hermione's fellow Hogwarts classmates shouted and called to one another up and down the corridors of the moving train. She had initially sequestered herself with Barty and Regulus, drawing down the curtain over the window in the door and slinging every privacy spell she knew.

There was a haunted look in Barty's eyes that she did not like, and bags under them as he came to terms with his new existence. His prejudice against werewolves - as a Pureblood - certainly didn't help, and he was bouncing between hating Remus, hating himself, and hating Dumbledore and Sirius for the situation he found himself in.

Hermione could only handle so much before she excused herself, citing need to change back into her Muggle street wear. She stalked the corridors, letting her frustration and anger of the situation and toward her sister - who was ignoring her - manifest in her angry gestures as she slammed the toilet door, and by the jerky movements of pulling her robe and uniform off as she wriggled into jeans.

Just as she opened the door, her uniform wrapped in her robes and bundled under her arm, she saw Snape stalk past, an ugly scowl on his face.

Without thought, Hermione followed until he was near the end of the train, by the baggage compartment.

 _He must have his own compartment,_ she thought as the crowd thinned until he slid open the second last train door, revealing an empty and quiet corridor. Hermione took advantage and nimbly dodged forward, her wand already out, and grabbed the other teen's shoulder.

He squawked, his own hand plunging into his robes, but she was faster, spinning him around and slamming him hard against the wall, using wandless magic to slam the train door shut and locking it. In the same move, she thrust her wand tip up against his jugular, leaning up and forward into his face.

"Snape," she hissed, eyes narrowed.

His narrowed back in response. "Hermione-"

" _No_! No, you don't get to call me that. Not after what happened," she snapped, her voice low. His mouth snapped shut, and there was something unreadable to her in his dark eyes as he stared at her. "I don't know how or why Barty was with you, Snape, but if I find out you did anything - threaten him, manipulate him - to get him to go with you that night, my god, it'll be the last thing you ever do to another Ravenclaw, do you understand?"

He barred his teeth at her.

She pushed the wand into his neck further and he craned it away. " _Do. You. Understand?_ "

Slowly, he nodded.

Hermione pulled away, slowly, easing down on her heels and then stepping back while keeping her wand trained on him. Snape brought one hand up to massage at his neck, his mouth twisted into an ugly form as he stared at her.

"We used to play together," he said.

Hermione frowned at the strange topic. "So?"

"We used to be friends," he continued.

She scoffed. " _We_ were never friends, Snape. You had Lily and that was all you cared about - don't fool yourself."

His mouth turned down further. "And you don't need anyone, is that it?"

"If that's what you think," she replied, stepping back one more step and letting her wand slowly fall. "And I mean it - stay away from Barty. Stay away from me-"

"Not Regulus Black?"

The sneer in his voice made Hermione nearly roll her eyes. "Reg can take care of himself-"

"-Oh yes, he doesn't need some mudblood to help him-"

She laughed, something high and cruel as she moved to the train door, eyes on the boy who grew up with her and her sister in Cokeworth. She doubted she'd see much of him this summer. "Oh, Snape, you have no idea. You really have _no idea_."

Then she stepped through the door and was walking back to her compartment with her friends, her wand tucked away and her head. _I'm done,_ she thought, almost feverishly. _I have spent so much time trying to maintain the timeline - trying to do what was right instead of easy. But things are changing now and I'm not going to be a pawn. Not this time around._

She was so lost in thought she nearly hexed the student who grabbed her arm and spun her around, her wand tip smoking and glowing.

James Potter threw his hands up and backed away until he hit the other wall of the corridor. "Blimey, Hermione! It's me! It's just me!"

She gingerly lowered the wand. "James."

"Hey," he replied, nervously shuffling as they looked at each other. The train rocked and Hermione let her body roll with the movement; behind James, scenery - green pastures - flew by. They were silent, eyeing each other nervously. So much had happened and she wasn't sure what to say to him - and, by the way he was shuffling, nervously fingering the sleeve of his sweater, he wasn't sure, either.

"I -" Hermione shook her head. "I think it might be best if you keep Black away from me for a bit-"

"Black?" he frowned and then sighed. "Sirius. Yeah - uh… yeah, might be best."

He ran a hand through his hair, making Hermione eye him as Lily's accusation ran through her head: _Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick…_

"Have you uh… recovered?" he asked, quietly. Hermione looked at him in surprise, and he scratched at the back of his neck as he added, "You were bruised and had some cuts from the other night."

 _Oh,_ she thought, and then nodded. "Yeah - it wasn't much. I'm fine."

James nodded. "I saw - I don't know what I saw - but I could've sworn you punched Moony in the jaw the other night-"

Hermione laughed weakly, a little nervous. "I think I did. It's amazing what the human body can do when you're full of adrenaline!"

The look James sent her from behind his glasses as a mix of fond amusement and skepticism, but he smiled at her and she felt her face respond in a similar, soft smile.

They were staring at each other, smiling, when his faded and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"About what?" Hermione was confused.

James gave a tiny laugh, looking everywhere but at her. "I'm not sure - the entire night, what happened; Sirius; I suppose, even you finding out about us being animagi - Moony -" his face dropped and he added, quietly, "Lily."

Then he paused, his eyes returning to her. His voice was tender when he asked, "Has she spoken to you since?"

Hermione stilled. "No. Not really."

"Will that be awkward at home?" James asked, his face screwing up.

"I'll manage," replied Hermione with a tiny shrug. "I'm used to being ignored there, too."

His hazel eyes widened from behind the glasses, and Hermione could see that he wanted to say something else. She quickly swallowed and plastered a smile on her face as she said, as brightly and dismissively as she could, "Have a good summer, Potter-"

"James."

She paused. "What?"

"My name," he said, in the same even tone he used. He was staring at her, something in his eyes that made her heart pound furiously against her chest. "It's James. I'd like it - I'd like it if you called me by my name."

"I-" she stopped and then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, nervously. She licked her lips and said, "Okay," paused, and then added, "James."

He smiled, something beautiful and wide that stretched across his face. Hermione felt herself respond, the heat of a blush against her cheeks. He grinned down at her, rocking on his heels.

"I'll owl you this summer, yeah?" he said, turning it from a question into a firm decision that she could not stop. Instead, she just nodded, and he turned, glancing only once at her over his shoulder as he walked down the corridor, whistling as he did so.

She shook her head - _what just happened?_ \- and took a deep breath. She was going to need some happy to hold onto before returning to her compartment, and, the car ride from London to Cokeworth.

Hermione wasn't wrong; Lily didn't wait for her as she exited the train, heading straight for the barrier and passing through to their father, who was hastily folding and tucking his newspaper away when Hermione emerged, spotting him easily in their pre-arranged rendezvous spot. The following car ride was filled with a tense silence, with Leo Evans' eyes darting from Lily in the front passenger seat to Hermione in the back in confusion.

When they finally arrived home, Lily dragged her trunk across the threshold, dropping it at the base of the stairs. Petunia, who was coming down the stairs, stopped as Lily aggressively brushed by her and down the hallway, pushing the kitchen door open as she went straight to their mother.

Petunia turned to stare wide-eyed at Hermione as she pulled her trunk in with her father holding the other end.

"What was that about?" her eldest sister asked.

Hermione sighed as she and her father put her trunk down. "It's a long story."

"I'll say," muttered Leo, "I don't think I've ever seen the two of you like this."

Petunia's wide eyes turned between Hermione and her father, watching as he muttered something about a drink. He disappeared into the living room, and Petunia took the last two steps from the stairs. She then leaned forward and hugged Hermione.

In response, Hermione tensed, briefly, but then sank into the hug and wrapped her arms around her tall, willowy sister.

"I have time if you want to tell me," she muttered into Hermione's curls, drawing back to look down at her in concern. "But… if you want to avoid that, I'm seeing Sean later. Want to come along? He's been asking about you and your friend."

Hermione glanced back at the closed kitchen door, and then her father in the living room. She bit her lip and then turned back to Petunia. "Sure."

The smile on Petunia's face would've produced the brightest _lumos_.

* * *

The summer passed quickly.

Lily continued to ignore Hermione, her face a mix between stubborn pride and wistfulness whenever Hermione caught her looking at her - but, the feelings of longing never remained long as Hermione waited for Lily to come to her and she never did.

Instead, to keep herself occupied, she spent time with Petunia and Sean. She got to know him better, and she thoroughly approved of him (inwardly thinking that anyone was better than Vernon Dursley). Even better, Petunia's plans for post-secondary were coming together they way she wanted, and Hermione was excited for her eldest sister.

Barty and Regulus corresponded with her regularly, and she visited Barty in London whenever she could, including the two full moons that summer, which were a test of her patience as his straw-coloured hair became shaggy, he finally grew a beard, and he sent her and Regulus on a four-hour long journey for the best steak in London one night.

Moreover, on top of all that - James sent her weekly owls.

It was baffling, especially the first time the owl post arrived and Lily reached for it - a letter from Marlene and Mary mixed in - and saw James' scrawl. She had opened the letter, only to hastily hand it over to Hermione when she realized the salutation was for her and not the fellow Gryffindor.

Hermione, too, was baffled, but wrote back, saving each one and smoothing them out between pages in a journal. She brushed her fingers across them now, her eyes lingering on the last correspondence they had when James wrote, _looking forward to seeing you again next Friday night in our usual spot. Arithmancy won't be the same without your help -_

And she smiled.

* * *

James was nervous.

Not only was he not looking forward to his meeting with Professor McGonagall upon their return - as he and his friends were to meet with her after dinner for those threatened detentions from the Incident at the end of their fifth year - but because of a certain Ravenclaw.

He fought the urge to pace in the tiny cabin on the Hogwarts Express but ended up jiggling his leg up and down quickly. At his side, Sirius glanced over and then teased, "Merlin, why don't you just ask her out already?"

His best friend, who had permanently moved in with him that summer after being kicked out and disowned by the Black family, was privy to James's secrets, including his most recent crush. As a result, he blushed a furious red.

Remus, who was pressed against the window, felt his mouth drop open. "Prongs - you're blushing -"

"We _are_ talking about Lily, right?" asked Peter, glancing around at the three other occupants. James' blush darkened in hue and Sirius's grin stretched. In shock, Peter felt _his_ mouth drop open as he stuttered, "Wait! So, is Lily out of the picture then?"

James slouched in his seat, fidgeting a little. He ended up reaching into his pocket and gripping the snitch there, letting it out and zoom around the compartment as his eyes tracked it. _If he was focusing on that as he spoke, it wouldn't be as embarrassing_ , he reasoned.

"After what she said, and how Hermione's handled everything…" he shrugged. "I guess… I want to get to know Hermione better before doing anything. I can't just go from one sister to another."

Sirius snorted. "I can."

The three other Marauders rolled their eyes.

Remus turned to James and gave him a patient smile. "Just keep seeing her in the library. I'm sure it'll lead to something more in time."

James grinned. "I like that idea. Thanks, Moony."

"I liked my idea better," pouted Sirius, slouching in his seat and crossing his arms as he watched James reach out and pluck the snitch from the air.

"Any idea of yours," began Remus dryly, "Is nothing but empty production. And besides, I think your ideas don't work too well on Miss Hermione Evans - or do you not remember what happened the last time you tried to get her attention?"

Sirius cringed. "It could've worked-"

Peter sniggered.

Friday came soon enough, after two days of classes including one Arithmancy class that was full of revision that James _completely_ understood, thanks to Hermione's tutoring. He excited bounded from the Gryffindor common room, rushing past his friends (and Sirius who hooted after him), and past Lily, Marlene and Mary as they entered.

"No running in the halls, Potter!" he heard Lily shout after him, but he waved her off, dashing through the hallways and down a moving staircase as he made his way straight to the library. The place was nearly empty except for a few enterprising Ravenclaws who were already frantically scribbling on their parchments, taking notes from towering stacks of books from a variety of subjects.

James grinned at the sight and began to slow, throwing his shoulders back and running a hand through his hair as he turned down the zoology towards Hermione's secluded corner that she preferred to work in. (And a tiny part of him admitted he liked working there, too.)

A loud burst of feminine laughter broke through the silence in the library, and James felt his smile stretch further, his heart skipping a beat, knowing that Hermione was around the corner. With an extra bounce in his step, he turned, and-

His heart stopped beating for a moment and he froze.

Hermione was in her usual seat, facing the window with the bookshelves behind her. Her head was thrown back in laughter, her curls spilling down the back of the chair as she leaned back, her throat long and her hand reaching out to sprawl across her parchment and books on the table, ready for James.

But, opposite her in his usual seat, sprawled a tall, lanky-looking teenager in Gryffindor tie. He had foppish brown hair, longer than regulation but shorter than Sirius' rakish curls that framed his square face and dipped to cover his eyes. He wore glasses though, and the teen's hand reached up to push his hair off his forehead as he grinned down at Hermione.

He leaned forward and James must have made a noise because Hermione - and the other Gryffindor that he didn't recognize - turned to look at him.

"James!" greeted Hermione, breathlessly.

His gut churned and he took a tiny step forward, his hand clutching his bag strap tightly. He glanced between the two, his mouth tight as he gave a wobbly grin. "Hermione, hey-"

"Have you met Dirk?" she continued, glancing at the foppish hair Gryffindor, who gave her an easy grin in reply. He turned back to James and James could've _sworn_ the other Gryffindor smirked at him. "He's in Gryffindor, like you!"

James would never be sure what he said in reply, other than he mumbled something and beat a hasty retreat from the table and library corner. It wasn't until he was several hallways down from the library and on a different floor, pressed up against a wall, that he took the time to _stop_ and _think_ \- and wonder what the hell he was going to do now.

* * *

Hermione turned to Dirk Cresswell, confusion writ on her face. "Well, that was weird-"

"Not at all," replied Dirk, shrugging a little. "Anyway, I should go; you have a tutoring session now, right? I'll see you around, Hermione."

"Yeah," mumbled Hermione, twirling a quill and glancing thoughtfully where James had stood a minute earlier. "A tutoring session..."

* * *

 **TBC...**


	11. Throw Yourself In - Part A

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

XI – Part A

* * *

 **The Doctor** : The thing is, Adam, time travel is like visiting Paris. You can't just read the guidebook, you've got to throw yourself in! Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and end up kissing complete strangers! [beat] Or is that just me?

\- "The Long Game" (1x07), _Doctor Who_ (2009)

* * *

There was a lull of exactly twenty-two days before Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Slughorn struck. Hermione had been on tenterhooks since the beginning of her fifth year, along with Barty, whose newly lupine-like traits functioned much like a spidey-sense, leaving him with his nervous twitch more pronounced than usual.

On the other hand, from what Hermione observed with the Marauders, they all seemed to be sure that the professors had forgotten their threats to revisit their detentions when the school year resumed, or that Dumbledore's given points negated the ill will the professors had toward the Shrieking Shack incident.

For her, it was no surprise to receive the owl summoning her and Barty to Flitwick's office that Monday evening. Regulus, by virtue of not being involved and under an unbreakable vow, was exempt but wished them luck regardless. There was a grim visage on his face that made Hermione wonder what kind of punishment he was thinking _they_ would be receiving (Hermione thought he was thinking of the past summer, when he admitted that his parents had done… _something…_ to Sirius, causing the Potters to come and remove his elder brother from Grimmauld Place.).

"This will be fun," muttered Barty, grabbing one last dessert from the table, swiping the chocolate biscuit just as the magic from the kitchens cleared the tables. He began chewing on it as they walked away from the Ravenclaw table.

Hermione's stomach was heavy and low. She had spent _so much_ time at Hogwarts avoiding attention, avoiding being seen. Having detention - everything that happened the past year - it made her uncomfortable. Professor Janulus and Professor Pythas didn't seem to care; even though she was done her NEWTs in Runes and Arithmancy, both had her attend their advanced seventh year classes where she was often used as a guinea pig or teaching assistant, or worse, an _example_ for the Seventh years - many who did not appreciate seeing a tiny fifteen-year-old upstaging them.

Professor Flitwick, as her head of house, had a strange dubious position of being her advocate while also maintaining order. He could be kind, but also harsh; he was disciplined, but forgiving. As it was, he had mentioned something about her doing her Charms NEWT that year, but Hermione was sure that was being held over her for good behaviour. The old duelling master wasn't without manipulative tactics. And Hermione doubted he would be the kindly Head of House tonight.

Stopping by Flitwick's closed door, she knocked twice.

"Enter."

Barty and Hermione shared one last look, and then Hermione twisted the doorknob and stepped into the cluttered Ravenclaw Heads' office. Flitwick was at his desk, surrounded by numerous books (some open, others closed with feather bookmarks at various spots, sticking out from the pages), while two scrolls floated and a quill was diligently taking notes. It stopped as they entered.

"Professor," greeted Hermione carefully. Barty stood straight at her side, in an almost military bearing with his shoulders thrown back and his hands clasped behind him.

"Miss Evans, Mister Crouch," greeted Flitwick. His tone wasn't jovial or excited, but it wasn't disappointed, either. It was neutral. "Earlier than expected, good, good."

Hermione fought the urge to fidget. When she was younger, in her first life at Hogwarts, she would've fretted and wrung her hands in anxiety. She was no longer that naive girl.

"Is this about last year, sir?"

Flitwick eyed her and then flicked his eyes at Barty. The other teen kept his gaze far above Flitwick's head, focusing on the back wall of his office. Neither would apologise for what they had done - they had gone to save Barty and Snape, and Barty paid the price for it.

(At some point during the summer, Hermione had turned to Barty and asked, "Why were you with Snape that night?"

But Barty's mouth had tightly pressed down into a long, thin line and his eyes hardened, looking away from her.

Hermione had sighed. "Will you ever tell me?" she had asked.

"Maybe one day," he had replied, finally looking back at her, the hard look in his eyes melting away into fondness and something else. "But not today. Not… not now."

Hermione had not replied and allowed Barty his secrets. It wasn't like she was without them, either, and she wasn't going to be hypocritical in making him tell her when she refused to share hers.)

"In a way, yes," sighed Flitwick. He paused for a moment and then continued, "The other Heads and I disagreed with the Headmaster's decision last term. We have collectively come up with punishments based on your infractions after exams, and will be giving them out in Professor McGonagall's office shortly."

"We understand, sir," said Barty, although he mumbled the words out, barely moving his mouth.

Flitwick shot him a concerned glance, shaking his head sadly. "While I do not think points should've been awarded, detentions won't help either. I am sure you will both find your… punishment acceptable… although I was not supposed to tell you that ahead of the meeting."

Hermione blinked. "Why not, Professor?"

Flitwick's lips curled into a secretive smile. "Camaraderie, I believe, but I am certain that the others might have a few guesses as to what is coming tonight as well."

"I doubt that," muttered Barty, and Flitwick pretended not to hear.

"Shall we?" the tiny professor asked, and then the three were leaving his office and walking down two hallways and a set of stairs to McGonagall's office. Flitwick used his wand to tap on the door, which resulted in two loud knocks.

"Enter," the Scottish brogue resounded through the door.

Flitwick led Barty and Hermione into the room. At first glance, it was just McGonagall sitting at her desk at the front, but once she had a few moments to gain her bearings, Hermione saw the four Marauders, sitting in various desks and spaced throughout the room; Sirius and James were in opposite corners, as far away from one another as McGonagall could put them, and Remus and Peter were in between, somewhere in the middle of the classroom.

At McGonagall's pointed look, Barty and Hermione moved to sit at a desk. Hermione instinctively went to her normal seat, although that was unfortunately near Remus. Barty began to growl low in his throat, causing not just Hermione to look at him, but for Remus' head to pop up, his eyes wide.

"No, you're right, that's a bad seat," consoled Hermione with a low murmur. She abruptly changed the direction she was walking to move toward the back of the room, nearer to where James was sitting, watching both her and Barty curiously.

Barty settled, a morose look on his face when they sat.

"Sorry," he mumbled under his breath. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," interrupted Hermione, smiling gently at her friend. "You can't control it all yet. That's okay."

However, Barty crossed his arms, hugging himself defensively, and slunk down in the seat until his chin touched his chest.

Remus, with his full lupine abilities, could hear the murmured conversation, and his face went milk-white in response. Something pained crossed his face, and then he slunk down in his seat, curling in on himself.

Hermione inaudibly sighed, and crossed her legs, impatiently tracing out a pattern on the desk as they waited for Slughorn and Snape. Those two arrived minutes later, Slughorn appearing as his usual jovial self, a wide smile on his face and in the middle of some story of some wizarding celebrity he knew as he spoke to a miserable looking Snape.

McGonagall pointed at a seat near Sirius, causing both teens to look murderous for a long, long minute, before Snape slunk over, a deep-set scowl on his face partially hidden behind his long black hair.

Flitwick and Slughorn moved to stand by McGonagall's desk, and she came around it to stand, arms crossed.

"Now that we're all here," began McGonagall, her brogue sharp as she surveyed the room, "We can begin."

"What are we doing here, Professor?" asked a mulish Sirius, arms folded on his desk as he leaned forward.

"We are _here_ , Mr. Black," stressed McGonagall, "To discuss punishment for what happened at the end of last year."

"Professor! _No_ -!"

"That not fair-"

"What! But Dumbledore gave us points-"

" _Headmaster_ Dumbledore, Mr. Potter," interrupted McGonagall with a stern glare at the dissenting voices of James, Sirius, and Peter, "I remember. I was there. I disagreed."

That brought to an end any protests, with both James and Sirius snapping their mouths shut so hard and fast their teeth audibly clicked.

"As the Heads of your Houses, we collectively have decided on punishments that we think are fair and fitting for your activities and actions in June of this past year," she continued, her eyes sharply lingering on their faces one-by-one. Hermione refused to squirm under her old favourite professor's cool, assessing look; but Barty, like Remus and Peter, dropped their eyes while James, Sirius, and Snape glared.

"Miss Evans, Mr. Crouch, and Mr. Potter," boomed Slughorn. "Let's begin with you three."

Hermione laced her fingers together on top of her desk and sat straight, giving Slughorn her attention. One more year and she knew he'd be inviting her to Slug Club meetings, the way his singing praise in potions class was going. Even now, he had a slight smile on his face, so she knew that her punishment - and Barty and James' - wasn't going to be too harsh.

"Since the three of you were more reactive, attempting to stymie the situation from deteriorating further, we have agreed that your punishment will be the easiest." Slughorn glanced at Flitwick and McGonagall, who nodded. "For now until December, the three of you will host evening tutoring sessions in your best subject for first through fourth-year students. You will be assigned specific days, and you will do this in an unused classroom off the ground floor near the Great Hall."

Flitwick added: "Your grades are impressive across the board - with a few exceptions," he added, glancing apologetically at James, who shrugged, "-and as such, Ms. Evans, you will tutor in Charms, Arithmancy, and Runes; Mr. Crouch, Defense and Magical Creatures; and Mr. Potter, in Transfiguration and Potions."

"Your tutoring sessions will begin immediately," concluded McGonagall, flicking her wand and sending three parchments flying across the room toward them. Hermione caught hers deftly out of the air, as did James and Barty, and glanced through the text.

 _Charms - Mon & Weds / Arithmancy - Tues, Sat / Runes - Thurs, Sat_, her parchment read. Inwardly, Hermione grimaced at the thought of her evenings gone, including Saturdays. James, however, had no filter and groaned, loudly.

"Saturday _too_ , Professor? When am I supposed to schedule Quidditch practice?"

At that, McGonagall's pursed lips tightened even further into a pinched, white line. Her brogue was incredibly thick. "You shoulda thought of that before your actions, Mr. Potter."

Shamed, James slunk in his seat a bit.

"Mr. Pettigrew," began Flitwick, eyes peering at the startled teen, who squeaked a bit in fear and then squared his shoulders. "You will join Professor Hawthorne in marking his Defense assignments from now until December, whenever he asks it of you. Obviously, this will only be for the first through third-year assignments, but as you remember from your time, those essays can be numerous."

"And Mr. Lupin, you will be aiding Mr. Pettigrew with Professor Hawthorne's work," added McGonagall sternly.

Both teens nodded, Remus' cheeks and ears bright red.

"Mr. Black," began Slughorn, the friendly tone he had been using for the others melting away to something significantly cooler, "For your actions, and the lack of thought behind them, we have a detailed and thorough assignment that you must complete and present to us before the term is over."

Sirius's eyes went wide and he froze in his seat as three pairs of Professors turned their attention on him.

"You will research Wizengamot laws regarding werewolves through the years, from when they were first mentioned to the most recent activity," instructed Slughorn, his voice solemn. "Charting the laws passed and the conditions in which werewolves of Britain must live in, your task will be to immerse yourself with the knowledge of what _your_ actions could have cost not just Mr. Lupin, but Mr. Snape as well. You will present this information to us, and we will determine if your content is sufficient or would require further analysis and detail in the winter term."

Sirius's face was pale and grave. The amount of sloughing through old material was daunting to a normal wizard - _unless one was Percy_ , thought Hermione with a tiny mental smirk - but for Sirius to spend his free time doing that kind of research, well...

On one hand, Hermione could understand what the professors were doing: hit the teen over the head with the terrible conditions werewolves experienced in Britain and let Sirius know that his actions would have _terrible_ consequences, with the possibility of Remus' death via execution. On the other hand, Hermione knew that the professors were hoping it would help Sirius later on in life as a Black, and the Black heir so that he could take his father's seat on the Wizengamot and make smarter decisions.

The task was as emotionally manipulative as it was educational, and to some degree, Hermione thought it reeked of Dumbledore's influence.

"Do you understand, Mr. Black?" asked McGonagall, tersely.

Sirius nodded, once, licking his lips nervously and muttering, "I do Professor. Thank you."

"Mr. Snape," finished Flitwick, "While I can admire the drive and wherewithal to uncover a good mystery as much as the next curious mind, your actions were meant to harm and expose Mr. Lupin purely for the wrong reasons. Do not think that we professors have not noticed your decisions and actions, recently, especially those amongst your new friends."

There was a warning look sent from Flitwick to Snape, whose dark eyes darted away, refusing to be shamed for his actions.

"As such," continued McGonagall, "You will be doing the same as Mr. Black: researching and then presenting to us before the term ends on lycanthropy and other prejudiced creatures in the wizarding world, specifically Britain. You will compile this information, analyse it, and conclude with reasonable solutions that are humane or could be feasible for the British populace to implement for those involved."

Snape stared ahead at the professors, a deadly glare on his face but he gave a sharp nod, refusing to argue back.

 _That was lucky,_ thought Hermione, although she was sure Snape didn't think so. Knowing what she did of the man, the professors had just given him a head start in his improved Wolfsbane potion with Belby, and since they hadn't specified that he (nor Sirius) couldn't ask for outside help, Hermione was sure Slughorn would nudge Snape in Belby's direction. Again, a bit manipulative; a way to force Snape to do some good while keeping a skilled potioneer away from future Death Eaters.

Overall, Hermione kind of thought that she got a raw deal, losing her Saturday and most weekday evenings to tutor snotty younger years with mental capacities that might rival Ron's.

"Dismissed," ordered a sharp McGonagall, and without due, Hermione and Barty rose. They gave a respectful nod to their Head of House, who returned with a smile. As Hermione and Barty began walking up the steps toward the door at the back, they passed James.

Hermione went to open her mouth, to say goodbye, but the messy-haired Gryffindor's cheeks went red and he turned his head away, eyes forward and deliberately giving her the cold shoulder.

Blinking, Hermione almost staggered in shock, but Barty caught her arm and hauled her the last two steps, even if her feet dragged over them. Once they were out of the room, her best friend turned to her, leaning down and forward as he whispered, "Are you okay?"

"Um. Yeah." Hermione still couldn't wrap her head around the dismissal but began to firm her pounding heart against the irrational hurt it felt. "Yeah. It's… it's okay. Let's go."

"It'll be better tomorrow," advised Barty, lowly.

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

* * *

It was weird, being a subject of gossip.

Hermione never got used to it the first time around as Hermione Granger, and as Hermione Evans, she thought the gossip was actually more malicious in comparison. Previously, it was "oh, look at that Mudblood Granger with her perfect grades, toying with the famous Boy-Who-Lived, his heart, who does she think she is?" and now it was "oh, look at that Mudblood Evans with her perfect grades, toying with James Potter's heart, betraying her amazing older sister, who does she think she is?" with some others who switched the ending up to "betrayed by her older sister, who does Lily think she is?"

She had the misfortune to overhear one rumour about her, her sister, and James later that week (the same week as her tutoring punishment), as she was heading to the tutoring room. Three girls were standing nearby, their gazes on her as she walked by herself. Hermione couldn't see their house affiliation, and honestly - that didn't seem to matter anymore, either. The rumours were coming from all four houses; it wasn't like she made friends in Ravenclaw.

Hermione's blood was boiling, as they weren't even keeping their voices down as she neared. Her hands clenched, tiny sparks running up and down her fingers and inside her palm where heat built, a spell uncast...

" _-what a total bitch-"_

" _-can't believe the two - ugh,_ Mudbloods- _"_

" _I don't even know what Potter sees in them, they're nothing special-"_

"Nor do I know what anyone sees in _you_ , Edgecombe, so why don't you piss off?"

The interruption of a male voice had all three girls start in surprise, open-mouthed and staring at the newcomer as he appeared from around the corner of the hallway ahead of Hermione.

Dirk had his hands in his pockets, his floppy hair covering one eye and hiding his glasses. He wore a pleasant expression on his face despite his words.

With a huff, Edgecombe - _and God, that was weird_ , thought Hermione, seeing her daughter's scowl and thin face in the older teen - and the other girls walked off, throwing dirty looks behind them at Dirk. Once they were gone, the Gryffindor turned to Hermione.

"All okay, Evans?"

Hermione nodded, crossing her arms. "Fine. Didn't need a knight in shining armour though, Cresswell."

"Wasn't gonna be one, Evans," the other teen grinned in reply. "Thought Edgecombe could use a reminder to be nice to people."

"Well, she's not a Hufflepuff for a reason," retorted Hermione. She nodded at Dirk, uncrossing her arms. "See you around."

Dirk leaned against the hallway wall. "See you."

Hermione felt Dirk's eyes on her until she turned the corner he had come from, shaking off the weird interaction and entering the tutoring room McGonagall had assigned. Barty was already there, head down and writing furiously on parchment with some books around him. When there were no students, she and Barty collectively decided to use the time to get their own work done.

James on the other hand was leaning back in his chair, tossing his snitch into the air and catching it lazily. The wings were only half-heartedly fluttering, uninterested in fleeing from its owner. There was a pensive look to his face, and he didn't glance over when she walked in.

 _This is not the behaviour I was expecting after our letters this summer,_ she thought with a frown, glancing over at him every few steps as she made her way to the long table she and Barty had claimed.

"You're later than I expected," the other Ravenclaw commented, his brown eyes glancing up at her as she pulled her chair out from the table, sitting with her back to James.

"I got held up," replied Hermione. "And it's not like I'm _late_. I'm early, by four minutes, in fact."

"Held up?" Barty focused on the important part. His eyes narrowed. "How?"

"Some girls in the hall were talking about me and Lily," sighed Hermione, beginning to pull out her tutoring books from her bag. Behind her, she heard two chair legs thump loudly as they settled to the floor.

Barty's eyes flicked over Hermione's shoulder and then returned to her, although she didn't see and was focused on lining her books, spare parchments, and quill and ink up for her own work. "What happened?"

"Nothing, really."

" _Hermione_."

The witch sighed and levelled a stare at her best friend. "They said some things. I won't repeat them. They were interrupted. They walked away. And then I came here."

"How were they interrupted?" the voice broke into the conversation and both Barty and Hermione looked up in surprise at James standing above them, a curious look on his face that was barely held back by his scowl.

"James," said Hermione, in surprise. She wasn't expecting him to speak with her after his cold shoulder.

"How were they interrupted?" he repeated, this time the curiosity bleeding away more to reveal his annoyance underneath.

Hermione blinked, glanced at Barty (who was watching the two carefully), and said, slowly, "Um - Cresswell showed up-"

A look of extreme dislike appeared on James' face for a moment before it disappeared. Hermione paused, staring up at him until he cleared his throat and muttered, "Continue."

"-and told them to piss off," finished Hermione slowly, still watching James. Her eyes tracked over him, from his tense shoulders to the frown on his face. "I told him I didn't need a knight in shining armour and then left."

James nodded firmly at that. "Good." Then, he relaxed and he ran a hand through his hair, nervously, glancing away. "Um, yeah, good."

Hermione widened her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep a smile in. "Good," she mimicked, watching as James' cheeks went pink.

He scratched at his cheek and then muttered something, beating a hasty retreat to his end of the tutoring room, just as a few students from Hufflepuff trickled in, looking around curiously.

"What was that about?" asked Hermione, turning to Barty.

Barty gave her a long look. Then he sniffed, replying, "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione stared at Barty, her eyes on him long after two Hufflepuffs approached him for his tutoring help. Finally, she muttered, "Wanker," under her breath and turned to her Runes book and a new Gryffindor arrival for tutoring. She resolved to put Barty's cryptic words on hold - for now.

Hermione got an inkling of what was annoying James by mid-November when the Hogwarts staff announced a Hogsmeade day ahead of the end of the term.

In accordance with her "punishment," Hermione was in the tutoring room, near the end of the scheduled time. She, Barty and James were the only ones in the room; James was still avoiding her until he forgot and spoke to her (and then blushed and went quiet again). In between those moments, Hermione and Barty had created a complicated, ongoing paper game regarding Runes and writing jokes in various runic languages. Barty was currently in the midst of a dirty limerick, sugar quill in his mouth when the door to the tutoring room opened.

All three sighed in disappointment, hoping for a quiet evening.

"Evans, hi."

Hermione's head rose from watching Barty struggle with his phrasing to glance at the door. Dirk Cresswell stood in its frame, eyes locked on her.

"Cresswell."

James' head snapped around to stare at the other Gryffindor, and he tracked Cresswell's movements as he walked confidently into the room, glancing around.

"Nice digs," the younger Gryffindor whistled, a grin on his face.

"It'll do," replied Hermione evenly, watching him. "Did you need tutoring help?"

"No."

Barty looked up and his eyes narrowed. "Then why are you here?" he asked, pointedly.

Hermione turned around, throwing her quill at him. "Rude!"

Being light and mostly feather, it made no mark on him. Barty instead levelled a disappointed glare on her.

"Ouch," he drawled sarcastically.

"Crouch's question still holds," called James from his end of the room.

When Hermione glanced over, she saw that James had reclined himself, stretching his arms out along one side of his table and had one leg crossed over the other, trying to take up as much room as possible. "This is meant to be a tutoring session. If you're not here for tutoring help, you shouldn't be here."

"Here, here," muttered Barty under his breath.

 _Seriously, what the fuck,_ thought Hermione, her eyes glancing back and forth between the two before settling on Cresswell, who didn't look bothered at all by them.

"I'm here to speak to Evans," replied Cresswell, putting his hands in his trouser pockets and leaning against the doorframe, crossing one ankle over the other.

"Me?" asked Hermione, flabbergasted. She looked between Barty and James, both who wore scowls and were pointedly not looking at her. "Whatever for?"

Cresswell gave her an easy grin. "Can you step out for a moment to talk?"

Three voices answered at once:

"No, she _cannot_."

"We're not done yet!"

"Sure - just give me a mo'."

There was an awkward silence afterward as the three in the tutoring room looked at one other; Hermione attempting to figure out just which line Barty said and James had said, while the other teenagers had flushes on their cheeks but weren't taking anything back.

Slowly, Hermione slid her eyes from them to Cresswell, who looked greatly amused. "I'll be a minute, Barty." Her eyes went to James next and he flushed a deeper red when she addressed him. "James."

Then Hermione stood and left the tutoring room, keeping the door partially open. She was under no illusion that both Barty and James were probably pressed against the wall, eavesdropping, but she also didn't want to risk them breaking the door down if she had closed it.

Cresswell stood in the middle of the hallway, a small smile on his face. He jerked his chin toward the tutoring room. "Quite a set of guard dogs you have there."

"They're usually not this bad," scowled Hermione, glancing back and crossing her arms.

Cresswell made a noise of acknowledgment.

Hermione sighed. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," said Cresswell. "Two Saturdays from now. Wanna go with?"

Hermione thought of her Yule shopping and what she could get done before the holidays to avoid Diagon Alley. "Sure, that would be good. I could get some shopping done. I could use a friendly set of eyes."

A noise from behind the door made her squint suspiciously in that direction for a moment, but Cresswell speaking had her turning her head to face him.

He coughed, shuffling his feet a little, and it was the first time she saw Dirk Cresswell uncomfortably nervous. "Erm, no - I was thinking - like a date?"

Hermione's brain stuttered to a halt. "What?"

There was a nervous grin on Cresswell's face as he glanced up from beneath his fringe, his glasses glinting in the hallway candlelight. "You're scary, you know? Absolutely brilliant, but scary. And well - I'd like to get to know you better, Hermione."

It was the first time he'd said her name, and not 'Evans.' And while Hermione could admit that James Potter made her heart flutter just so - especially after that New Years' kiss - his avoidance of her lately had soured something.

Maybe it was spite, or maybe it was the first time in _either_ of her lives that Hermione had been asked to Hogsmeade, but she heard her voice answer before her brain had time to catch up. "Okay."

"Okay?" repeated Cresswell, hopefully.

Behind the door, there was a loud thump.

"Okay," replied Hermione, giving him a nod. "I'll meet you by the carriages at nine that morning?"

"Groovy," replied Cresswell with a wide smile.

He gave a tiny wave, walking backward down the hall for a few steps and nearly missed the wall at the ninety-degree angle, turning and running into a tapestry that he was caught in briefly. He struggled to escape and then with a sheepish grin and one last wave, disappeared.

Hermione watched all this with an amused, fond smile on her face. That smile slipped off her face when she walked back into the tutoring room and both Barty and James were in completely different seats than where she left them, _and_ both were looking suspiciously busy, ignoring her eyes.

Barty caught her eyes first and his ears turned red.

"Do you have something to say, Barty?" asked Hermione, her tone light but there was a promise of pain in her glare.

He grimaced, eyes flickering at James for the briefest of moments before he pulled his sugar quill from his mouth with a wet pop and said, "No," very clearly.

"Good," replied Hermione.

James never looked up, and in all honesty, Hermione never expected him to.

* * *

In retrospect, Hermione realized that there was a reason why she didn't go to Hogsmeade. She just didn't realize at first, and it set the tone for her date.

Cresswell met her where they agreed, at the carriages, with his hair windswept and in Muggle jeans and a jumper. He looked good, and Hermione could appreciate the Gryffindor from a very aesthetic perspective.

"Hermione," he said with a shy grin.

"Cresswell," she replied.

His brow furrowed. "How about you call me Dirk? That's my name."

Hermione found herself nodding. "Of course - sorry. It's… habit."

Dirk cocked his head to the side a bit, frowning, but said nothing as the two entered the carriage. The ride from the Hogwarts gates to Hogsmeade was quiet and terse, uncomfortable in ways that Hermione didn't know how to bridge. With Harry and Ron, they _knew_ each other. The conversation was effortless as it was to sigh, "oh, _honestly_ , Ronald!" or "Oh, _Harry_!" just as the conversation was effortless when she poked fun at Barty or bantered with Regulus.

Even with James, and Sirius, Hermione found herself falling into easy conversation; Sirius because she _knew_ him, and James because he was so different from Harry that she wanted to figure out his ticks, cataloging those differences.

The first glimpse of Hogsmeade from the carriage window was that of a bright, winter Wonderland village, covered with a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow and charming, quaint signs that hung above doors and thick panelled glass that was hard to see through. The shops were the same, the witches and wizards in robes walking down the icy cobblestone streets were the same, and even the shrieking, laughing Hogwarts students were the same to Hermione's washed memories.

Except, she'd turn her head just so, and the picturesque village turned dull, slushy, and grey and she'd hear the echo of a caterwauling jinx, or the eerie green of the Dark Mark hanging above that she'd shiver and cross her arms tight against her chest.

"Cold?" asked Dirk, concern in his voice.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm fine, thanks."

"Oh, okay."

The two stood for a few moments by the carriages and Hermione desperately tried not to look at either image the town presented her through her memories or the black, leathery-looking Thestral behind her.

"Should we…"

"Do you want to-?"

The two stared at each other for a moment before laughing. The smile on Hermione's face broke any stillness and awkwardness.

"Sorry," she said. "You first."

"I was going to say, want to go to Scrivenshaft's? And then maybe the Three Broomsticks for a warm Butterbeer?" asked Dirk.

Hermione nodded and the two began walking; Dirk led the way, talking excitedly about classes that they shared and asking questions about the advanced material Hermione was on in Charms, the only class left she could take a NEWT in outside of her year mates.

As they walked into the stationary store, Hermione felt the tension leave her frame. _This_ was what was missing before; the easy conversation. She found herself amused, joining Dirk as they looked at the different colours of ink, the invisible ink, the ink that was sparkly or changed colours, and then at the fountains pens and fashionable quills of peacock or quail or parrot. The longer they spent together, the happier, the more relaxed Hermione became.

 _It was almost like being back with Harry and Ron_ , she thought happily, as they left Shrivenshaft's, a few galleons lighter and Dirk with a few bottles of ink and Hermione with a new journal.

So it was completely unexpected when Dirk stopped her near the Three Broomsticks and kissed her.

Hermione was so startled she froze, her mouth slightly parted as Dirk pressed his warm lips to hers, his fringe tickling her forehead. He tasted like spearmint and his mouth was warm, but there was no passion, no spark-

Dirk drew back, his eyes fluttering a bit as he opened his eyes, a small frown on his face as he peered at Hermione, who blinked back at him.

"I-" he paused, closing his mouth before shaking his head a little. "That was-"

Hermione was equally struggling to find something to say. "Yeah, it was like-"

Dirk's mouth twitched a bit and he gave a self-deprecating laugh as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry, Hermione, and don't take this the wrong way-"

"But?"

"But," he began, giving her a _look_ , "that was like kissing my sister."

Hermione exhaled loudly. "Oh, thank God, I was going to say the same thing."

Dirk's eyes twinkled. "It was like kissing your sister? You'll have to tell me everything - was it like kissing Lily or that other one you have?"

"Ew," Hermione's nose wrinkled and she punched Dirk on the shoulder. "Gross."

He laughed and drew Hermione close, throwing his arm across her shoulders as they walked the few remaining steps to the Three Broomsticks' door. "Really? Tell me how _gross_ over a Butterbeer, why don't you?"

"You Gryffindors are all the same," she muttered, but there was a small smile on her face.

Dirk wriggled his eyebrows. "I bet."

The two found a table in the busy pub, laughing as they sat after Dirk ordered their drinks and a shareable platter of chips. As they waited, his face did grow a bit solemn and he tentatively asked, "So, friends?"

Hermione reached forward and took one of his hands resting on the tabletop in hers. "Friends, Cresswell. You won't be able to get rid of me this easily now."

He grinned back, and then untangled his hand from hers and leaned back in his seat, just as Madam Rosmerta, a very pretty and young witch, came by with their drinks and a floating platter behind her.

The two enthusiastically thanked her, and Hermione went straight to the fry, enjoying the warmth and the salty taste. Dirk watched her in amusement, and then his eyes skipped over her shoulder.

"So," he began.

Hermione looked up. "So…?"

"As friends, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Dirk's tone was pleasant, despite the words. "Can you explain to me why James Potter is currently looking like he wants to _Avada_ me?"

Hermione choked on her fry.

"I mean," continued Dirk, with a tiny smirk on his face, "I know I'm good looking, and smart, and pretty popular, but I'm no Quidditch player and quite honestly, I would prefer to be out of the Marauder's circle of awareness, you know? It was bad enough that your mate, Crouch, still glowers at me when I come without four feet of you - but Potter? What'd I ever do to him?"

"I'm so sorry," groaned Hermione, bowing her head into her hands. "I'll - I'll talk to Barty, I promise."

"And Potter?" Dirk's tone was light with curiosity.

"I wish I could tell you," sighed Hermione, peeking at Dirk through her fingers. "But honestly, I don't know."

"Hmm," the Gryffindor replied, uselessly. "Well then," he said eventually, reaching for the warm snack, "tell me about Gardner - you said we need to know his theory for the Arithmancy OWL?"

Hermione gratefully took the out Dirk provided her and launched into a detailed analysis of the theory he was asking about, as well as the questions she remembered being on the exam, but a tiny part of her wondered: _just what was James Potter playing at?_

* * *

The following Friday, one the last three before the winter break began, Hermione had the opportunity to ask. Barty had caught a bug around the last full moon, and a worried Flitwick had requested the Ravenclaw spend the night in the infirmary instead of their tutoring punishment in case there were any complications from his lycanthropy and the Pepper-Up batch he was given.

With the end of term nearing, Hermione and James were both swamped with people needing help or final essays proofread, keeping both occupied until well after their usual end time until the candles melted and the shadows lengthened in their tutoring room.

Once the last student left, Hermione stretched her arms up and felt her back pop and crack. She gave a tiny moan at the feeling and then slumped over her desk. With a sigh, she began packing up her ink and quills into her bag, listening to James do the same.

Then, he broke the silence. "Is your boyfriend not coming tonight?"

Hermione stilled and turned in her seat to stare at James. Once he realized he was the object of her stare, he flushed and looked down at his desk, hastily sending crumpled parchment into his bag in an effort to keep busy.

"If you mean Dirk," began Hermione, watching James visibly bristle at the other Gryffindor's name, "He's not my boyfriend."

Only then did James look up. "But you two kissed—"

"Were you spying on me?" Hermione rose from her seat, irate.

"Not deliberately—"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Well, I didn't plan on seeing you and Cresswell sucking face outside the Three Broomsticks when I went to order my lunch, now, did I?" retorted James hotly, standing from his seat as well.

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she gaped at the other teen for several moments before pulling herself together, wrapping herself in a facade of cool detachment. "If I were, it's none of your business."

James flushed, knowing that to be true.

Both remained silent and then James turned away, the shoving of his quills and inks in his bag a bit more violent and angry this time around.

Hermione watched him before asked, tentatively, "Why did you stop talking to me?"

James froze.

She continued, uncaring that a bit of hurt slipped through her voice, "After sending me all those letters this past summer?"

"I—"

James' Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, glancing around the room but not at her, as if he sought the answer from the walls. "I just thought—"

"That what? It was better for you to keep your distance? You can't run hot and cold, Potter," argued Hermione, "Not when you said you wanted to be friends at the end of last year, talk about how we'd spend time together and then just – just – I dunno, _turn tail_ like some coward—"

James sent a vicious scowl at Hermione, tossing his bag down on the table. "I'm not a coward!"

"Then why are you avoiding me?" she asked exasperatedly.

"I- I'm not—"

"You _are_."

They fell silent. There was something in Hermione's voice, or her face, that she couldn't see but that James could; his hazel eyes darted all over her face, never settling as he took in the raw hurt and the etched lines that her final line made.

He swallowed again, this time recognizing his actions hurt her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. There was a phantom pain in his chest and made everything tight. "I didn't mean to."

"But you did."

"I know," he agreed quietly, looking down. "I don't have a proper excuse—"

" _Why did you then?_ "

James turned and fisted his hands around the strap of his book bag. Could he even admit that it was the jealousy of seeing her spending time with Cresswell, in _their_ spot in the library? That watching Cresswell pursue her made him wonder if he really fancied Hermione or if this was a rebound thing from Lily?

He wouldn't admit to it – not when he wasn't fully sure yet, either. But he didn't want to spend the rest of the school year without some kind of interaction with the younger witch.

"I'm sorry," he said again, looking up and catching her eyes.

Hermione bit her lower lip and chewed on it, watching him warily. "You'll stop avoiding me?"

James nodded, slowly. "Promise."

Her eyebrows rose skeptically, and he grinned, recognizing that maybe a promise was a bit futile. So, he added: "Marauder's honour. And _that's_ a promise I won't break easily."

Something flashed in Hermione's eyes – acknowledgment? – and then she nodded. "Okay. Marauder's honour, then. No more avoiding me."

"No more avoiding you," he agreed easily, something tight in his chest loosening.

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you still need Arithmancy help?"

"Oh, Merlin, yes," gasped James, practically throwing himself a few steps forward as he emphatically nodded. "I mean, all your tutoring last year has really helped this year, but I could use a refresher and it would be great if you could check things over—"

She laughed, then, the same head-toss that she made that day in the library when he walked in on her and Cresswell, but there was something brighter, more vibrant in this laugh.

"Okay," she chuckled, amber eyes glittering in the candlelight. "I know our Fridays are busy here, but... if you have Sunday free...?"

"Our spot? In the library?" eagerly asked James.

Hermione's lips curled into a content smile. "Yeah. Our spot."

* * *

And that Sunday, when Hermione looked up from her seat at her usual table, to see James walking toward her with his lopsided smile, Hermione finally thought that things were back on track, and nothing could ruin the rest of her year.

* * *

TBC (soon!) in Part B...

 **Note** : I am _so sorry_! This chapter is just not cooperating, and it'll feel glitchy and weird, and then I got wrapped up in my dissertation proposal, and a chapter on _Fate/Zero_ that is going to be published in a KA anthology, and my cats fighting, and my husband losing his job... but I have two scenes left to write in the next part. I broke it up because you have all been _so patient_ over the past few months, so here's a little to get you through the next 2-3 days before the next part is up! I think you'll really enjoy Part B because there is a HUGE reveal to come...!

#WeTheNorth


	12. Throw Yourself In (Scar Tissue) - Part B

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

XI – Part B

* * *

If the Universe came to an end every time there was some uncertainty about what had happened in it, it would never have got beyond the first picosecond. And many of course don't. It's like a human body, you see. A few cuts and bruises here and there don't hurt it. Not even major surgery if it's done properly. Paradoxes are just the scar tissue. Time and space heal themselves up around them and people simply remember a version of events which makes as much sense as they require it to make.

\- Douglas Adams, _Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency_

* * *

Diagon Alley was one of Hermione's favourite places in the Wizarding world. She didn't appreciate it much when she was younger, in her first life, due to the enormous attraction that Hogwarts' library held for her - _all that knowledge_ \- but as she grew, and embraced more of wizarding culture, she had come to appreciate Diagon's quaintness, its quirkiness. She appreciated the ambiance of the narrow, cobblestone paths with light, fluffy snow lining wooden shop signs or overhangs, with the Yule stock on display in the windows, and even the very Victorian feel of fur muffs and coats and carolers on the corner.

Both Barty and Regulus, when she met with them, wore traditional wizards' outer robes with fur lining the collar and sleeves; Regulus' were of better quality, in a dark, inky black that reflected the same blue tinge his dark hair had whereas Barty's were brown, tailored, and a bit more contemporary with their wide lapels and looser fit.

Hermione made a face. _Of all the fashion statements,_ she thought, _the 70s could have been one of the most awkward decades. You're either Ian Drury or Sonny Bono._

She was beginning to dread the day her male friends began to grow more than wisps of facial hair.

"Hermione!" greeted Barty, frantically waving an arm high above his head from where he and Regulus stood next to Flourish & Blotts. It was their usual designated meeting space, and the Alley was rather crowded with others doing their holiday shopping.

Hermione gave both Barty and Regulus quick kisses of greeting on their red cheeks. "Shall we?" she asked, eyes already skipping over to the front entrance of the bookstore.

"Flourish's last," both teens stated, making Hermione pout.

Their first business was Gringott's for Barty, leaving Regulus and Hermione to wait outside the bank. There, they compared shopping lists and discussing Barty's present.

"What are you going to get him?" asked Hermione, looking up at the youngest Black.

"Probably a book," he said, shrugging. "I think he was interested in some theoretical texts that aren't easily found in Britain - you know, Fillory; Mryddin; Greybeard -, so I was going to ask for my French relatives to find one of them for me in Paris." He paused. "Or maybe our Italian relatives to search a bit more afield."

Hermione stared. "Sometimes, the way you go out of your way to find things drives home how ridiculously wealthy you are."

Regulus held back a preen behind a tiny smile.

Barty exited the bank then, saving Hermione from admitting she didn't know what she was going to get her best friend to Regulus. The three quickly left the dour stares from the goblin guards that stood just outside the doors, moving from their line of sight and toward the nearest shop that caught their fancy.

Later, Hermione had bought an acromantula silk scarf from her grandmother; a smoking pipe for her grandfather; a card set for her uncle; a self-inking fountain pen for her father; and even a new recipe book for her mother to try (or at least get a kick out of the instructions). Hermione knew what she wanted to get Petunia, and where she needed to buy it, but she was hesitating on Lily.

In Gladrags, she was rubbing the fabric of a beautiful green shawl that she knew would look wonderful on her peaches-and-cream sister, but a part of her - the bitter, nasty part that was all Hermione Granger hexing Marietta Edgecombe - was telling her to leave Lily off her Christmas list this year.

Barty, in a mild snit over searching for his own presents for his parents (his mother was always easy - her favourite soaps - but what do you get an absent, if not overbearing, father who only ever expressed disappointment in you and your achievements?), had wandered off toward the hats, leaving Regulus and Hermione together. Regulus didn't shop at Madam Malkin's ("Too plebeian," he once said to them, "I'm expected to buy from Twillfit."), but he remained to be with his friends.

"Are you going to get it?" he asked quietly, silvery eyes focused on her face.

Hermione frowned. "It'll be obvious if I exclude her."

"But you want to."

"God, yes." Hermione gave a tiny laugh, but it was self-deprecating and bitter. "Is it wrong of me? To feel this way about family?"

Regulus raised his eyebrows. "Hermione. Have you _met_ me? I think the Blacks write the entire series on family drama."

She huffed a laugh.

"Really, though," sighed Regulus, "You should probably buy it. One, if she hasn't bought you anything - you come out better for being the bigger person. And two, if she _has_ bought you something, it's likely something small and cheap that shows she doesn't know you well or didn't put thought into your present - unlike what you're doing." He smirked. "Either way, you look good."

Hermione laughed. "Spoken like a true Slytherin. Alright; I'll buy this."

They walked to the register, and Hermione fished out the appropriate galleons for the green shawl. Regulus kindly reached for the bagged item, he and Barty carrying all her purchases ("It's a Pureblood thing, Evans," they told her during their first Hogsmeade outings, a long time ago), when Hermione caught sight of something just past Malkin's window and the two black-haired teens heading in their direction.

"Say, Reg?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what you were saying about cornerstone on family drama?"

Regulus turned to look at her in suspicion. "Yes…?"

"It's about to walk into the store," she finished, just as the door pushed open and the bell above it tinkled and chimed, signalling new customers. The two stomped their feet, huffing loud breaths and chuckling to themselves as they basked in the warmth of the shop over the chilly December air. The two looked up at the same time and caught Hermione and Regulus standing still.

Silver eyes widened and Sirius gasped out, "Reg-!" just as James' mouth stretched into a lop-sided smile as he said, "Hermione."

A red-mittened hand rose in the air to touch his hair, but all it did was make it static, crackling and sticking up in worse directions than it had previously.

Hermione squelched the desire to laugh. "Black. Pott-"

" _James_ ," interjected James warningly, likening back to their previous conversations.

"James," sighed Hermione in correction. "What brings you two by Madam Malkin's?"

"New robes for Remus," said Sirius, eyes darting between James and Hermione, and then back to Regulus. "It's his Yule present."

"That's kind of you," said Regulus, although the way he said it fully implied his thoughts on the charity.

Hermione elbowed him.

While James goggled at their interaction, Sirius' eyes kept flickering to his younger brother, while he nervously smoothing down his robes.

"I decided to just get him another fucking hat," came Barty's voice, griping and bitter as he strode toward Hermione and Regulus, a thunderous look on his face with a scowl set deep. "Just as I do every year."

He immediately froze upon seeing James and Sirius, a shuttered look falling over his face, which drastically paled. His scowl deepened until it was a harsh upside-down U on his thin face. "What're _they_ doing here?"

James flushed, glancing around and stammering, but Sirius's grey eyes flashed. "Shopping, Crouch. No crime against that."

Barty's already frosty demeanour chilled further. "Oh, no - no crime in shopping at all, but hey, Black, let's talk about full moons, what do you say-"

" _Barty_!" hissed Hermione, reaching out and clutching at his arm. " _Not here_!"

Her friend didn't even glance down at her, his eyes focused on Sirius, who was now glaring at the much taller (but skinnier) Ravenclaw.

"Got something you want to say, Crouch?" taunted Sirius, stepping forward.

Hermione, trapped between the two, glanced worriedly between them as Crouch drew himself to his full height.

"Plenty," hissed Crouch, leaning over Hermione's form to push his face into Sirius's space.

"Enough," broke in Regulus, stepping forward and drawing Barty back just as James did with Sirius. "For one, this isn't the place for any kind of - of Muggle _knock down_ \- so, both of you - enough. Second, Unbreakable Vow, remember? So let's try _not_ to lose our magic."

Barty shrugged Regulus off, his eyes flashing from brown to amber quickly. "Forget it, Reg. I'm leaving. Can't stand to be in the presence of shit right now."

"Barty…"

Hermione's voice trailed off after her friend, but he only paused at the door, not even during his head much as he apologized to her. "I'll… I'll talk to you later, Hermione. Just… not now."

He tossed a hand in the air and was then through the door, his tailored robes blending in with the crowd outside until his height was swallowed and he was gone, leaving the other four behind.

"Wanker left all our purchases for me to carry, too," muttered Regulus, finally.

Hermione stifled a snort, turning back to her other friend. Her eyes glittered as she held out her hand. "Oh, give them here, you big baby."

Affronted, Regulus drew the bags closer to himself and turned his body away. "Hermione!"

"Oh, c'mon, Reg," chided Hermione gently, reaching for a strap and pulling it gently toward her. "How are you going to eat lunch if you're hoarding Yule presents? Don't you need your hands free?"

"She's got a point there, baby brother," grinned Sirius.

Regulus shot Sirius a look that clearly read _traitor_. While he did so, Hermione darted forward and sent a wandless stinging hex at Regulus' hand, the one holding her bags. He yelped as they fell, but James Potter was there, catching them with his quick Chaser reflexes. He was flushed with success when he stood from his stoop. " _Ah ha_!"

"Oh, my hero," grinned Hermione, looking up at James.

The Gryffindor preened, his cheeks turning a dusty pink and he went to run his hand through his hair - again - but this time the weight of the bags in his mittened hands kept them down.

"Reg," began Sirius tentatively. "Since I'm staying with the Potters, do you have time for lunch?"

Regulus frowned, glancing between Hermione and his brother.

Sirius, catching it, quickly added, "Hermione and James can come with if you don't want to leave her unescorted."

Hermione's good mood dipped southward and her eyes narrowed. "Unescorted?"

"Pureblood thing," all three boys said, at once, in the same dry tone.

It was Hermione's turn to scowl. Despite that, she turned to Regulus and spoke in an undertone, knowing that as animagi - or wizards who just recently attained their animal form - James and Sirius could hear her.

"You can go, it's okay," she murmured, face tilted up to him. "It's your brother - when will you really get this chance again?"

Regulus's eyes darted over her face and toward her brother, something unreadable in them. Then, he sighed, a tiny little sound, and nodded once. He handed her one more bag - the shawl for Lily - and then shrunk his (using the ambient magic and numerous adult wizards to hide his location for the tracking spell on his wand), pocketing his miniature gifts.

"Lead the way, Sirius," said Regulus, partly resigned.

Sirius perked up, his shoulders thrown back, and a bright look in his eyes as Regulus agreed. "Alright, great!" He clapped James on the shoulder and barked out, "Later, Jimmy!" as he and Regulus walked out of the shop.

It left James and Hermione in awkward silence.

"So, how's your holiday-"

"Did you want to grab a Butterbeer-"

They both stopped, staring at each other, and then laughed. Hermione bit her lip and watched as James glanced to the floor and then at her, shifting her bags from one hand to the other.

"So. Um. Did you want to hang out…?" asked James, carefully, looking at Hermione from under his eyebrows with his chin tilted down a bit.

"I have one last gift to get," replied Hermione. "I could… probably use your help."

"My help?" James looked astonished for a moment and then grinned. "Yeah, alright. Let's go."

He reached forward and caught her hand with his mittened one, and then was pulling her out of the store.

"Don't you need to get Lupin's gift?" laughed Hermione, causing James to halt abruptly, flush a very deep red and make an about-turn directly back into the shop.

Hermione waited outside for all of three minutes, arms crossed and an amused look on her face when James slinked out, sheepishly shrinking his own package so it was tucked into his pocket.

"So. Um. Where to?" he asked, stumbling a bit over his words.

"Zonko's," replied Hermione.

James' eyes went wide. " _Zonko's_?" he repeated incredulously. Then a slow grin began to spread across his face. "Why, Miss Evans, do I want to know?"

Hermione bit back her own answering grin and the two began walking. As they did so, she explained, "It's for my sister."

"Lily?" James' brows furrowed in concern and confusion. "I didn't know you were talking to each other again-"

"We're not," replied Hermione shortly, cutting him off. "It's for Petunia."

"Your older, Muggle sister," James answered, nodding. "Right." Then he paused, looking down at her curiously. "So, why um, Zonko's?"

Hermione felt her lips curl into a smile as she peered up at him. "What do you know about Tuney?"

James frowned. "Not much. Uh, I mean, I've heard Evans mention that she was a bit of a cow-" he winced. "Sorry, I-"

Hermione shook her head. "No, that's alright. Tuney can be petty when she wants." She glanced at James and added, cheekily, "I guess it's an Evans thing."

Taking the olive branch, James grinned. He skittered a bit closer to her and bumped his shoulder with hers. "Oh, is it?"

"Anyway, Tuney's about three years older than me, so she's in her first year of uni," explained Hermione. "One of her worst traits is her need for gossip, I swear that girl has an ear to the ground in Yorkshire - knew everything that was going on. She had a great network of informants, too…"

James chuckled. "She would've made an interesting Slytherin."

"You think?" Hermione paused thoughtfully. "She'd definitely never be a Gryffindor; she's not brash at all. A bit fickle with her loyalty, but once you have it, you have it. I guess she'd have been Ravenclaw or Slytherin." She shrugged. "Like I was saying, she's a gossip hound."

"So what does that have to do with Zonko's?"

"I'm getting there! Stop interrupting," chided Hermione, glaring at James.

He held his hands up, her bags banging together. "Sorry, sorry!"

"Tuney probably could've been a stay-at-home mum or a secretary, but with her A-Levels in English and her gossip skills, I _may_ have… well, suggested that journalism was a good option for her?" finished Hermione. "Of course, she took it one step further, and decided she wants to be an investigative journalist…"

Understanding lit on James' face. "And Zonko's carries that lock pick set…"

"Mm-hmm," agreed Hermione easily. "And a few other products she could use."

Zonko's was noisy and busy, filled with screaming children and exasperated parents, many of whom looked nervously around at the items their children were buying and expressing interest in. Hermione and James quickly made their way to the lock pick section, which also included invisible ink, feathered dusters with powder in them for print dusting, a self-updated case book, omnioculars, and even spell-revealing magnifying glasses.

Hermione bought a little of everything, samples for Petunia to try and use. Hermione paid and then James was pushing her through the throng of people to the doors. The two breathed in deeply the moment they exited the hot store, sharing glances.

"That was insane," muttered James, looking a bit stressed.

"Christmas shopping," replied Hermione easily with a tiny shrug.

"Well, I could do with a pick-me-up after that," retorted James, reaching out and taking Hermione's hand again. She glanced down in surprise at the red mitten and warm hand encircling her cold and mitten-less fingers, and then back up to James who was pointedly looking forward.

They walked in silence for a few moments before James asked, "So. How's Cresswell?"

Hermione blinked. "Dirk? Um. He's okay? I guess? The last I spoke to him?"

"Aren't you doing anything for Yule him?" asked James, curiously as he glanced at her.

"We're not dating, you know that," replied Hermione, brows furrowed. "Is that what people think? We literally had one date to Hogsmeade, and it was like… Marty and Lorraine."

James stared. " _Who_?"

Hermione shook her head. "Uh, never mind - you wouldn't know them -" Her voice dropped as she muttered, "For like, another decade anyway, God-" She cleared her throat. "It was like kissing my brother. If I had one. Just… yeah."

"Oh," said James, shortly. "I'm… sorry."

And he truly did sound sorry, like he was upset that things didn't work out for Hermione. She looked up at him, catching his hazel eyes as they peered down at her. There was something solemn in them, something else that she couldn't quite identify, but it was enough that she tugged on his hand and his lips stretched into a smile.

They had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the cobblestone path that ran through Diagon Alley, forcing people to move around them as they continued with their shopping. Snowflakes began to gently fall, and tiny puffs of white air escaped their mouths as they breathed. James's cheeks and nose were turning red, but there was a sparkle to his eyes, turning them more green than brown, and he was tilting his face down -

Hermione's breath caught -

"James, darling!"

The two sprung back, both glancing to their right to a cafe. A stately woman with black hair streaked with grey in beautiful grey dress robes was standing next to a man with a messy mop of thick grey hair, in black robes. Her hand was tucked into the man's elbow, and her eyes were darting between James and Hermione as they walked toward them.

At her side, James sighed. "Mum, dad."

Bewildered, Hermione's eyes widened and she took in Harry's grandparents. She had never seen images of Charlus and Dorea Potter - Harry's album was rather bare when it came to him in his first year - so she eagerly traced their features for remnants of Harry. She found it in Charlus' hair, in the slope of Dorea's nose and eyebrows, in Charlus' chin.

James directed Hermione through the crowd until he was standing in front of his parents, his hand still trapping hers. "Mum, Dad - we've been shopping together since Sirius went off for lunch with his brother."

Dorea's thin eyebrows shot upward just as Charlus gave a low whistle. "They're speaking again?" he asked.

James glanced at Hermione, who shrugged. "It's an ongoing process."

Dorea also glanced at Hermione, her silvery eyes almost preternatural. "And who is this, James?"

Hermione immediately felt three sets of eyes focusing on her and froze. James, who still held Hermione's hand, smiled brightly. "Mum, Dad, this is Hermione Evans."

Dorea and Charlus exchanged a quick glance.

"Evans?" asked Charlus, lightly, as he turned back to her.

"Any relation to Miss Lily Evans?" continued Dorea, but there was something dark in her eyes as she surveyed Hermione up and down.

Inwardly, Hermione winced. She quickly dropped James' hand, as if it burned her. "My older sister."

James cottoned on quickly to his parents' disapproval and hurriedly said, "Hermione was the one who was tutoring me in Arithmancy, mum."

Dorea's eyes widened. "Wait – _you're_ Pythas' prodigy? The one he keeps going on about, being only fourteen, but writing her NEWTs?"

"Fifteen, but yes, that was me," replied Hermione, relaxing minutely. "Unless there is another student at Hogwarts who did the same as me."

"There's no one else like you," said James, revealing that same lopsided grin.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm and she glanced away.

"That's quite the accomplishment," continued Dorea, glancing between the two. Her voice was much nicer, now. "Are you in Gryffindor with James, dear?"

Hermione shook her head. "Ravenclaw."

"Of course you are," chuckled Charlus. This time, husband and wife shared a glance that was loaded with something Hermione didn't quite identify but had seen often between her own parents in her original timeline and even between Leonard and Rose Evans of her present.

"Have either of you eaten?" asked Dorea, once she turned away from her husband. "I'd imagine that Sirius will be some time if he's catching up with Regulus."

"Not yet, mum," replied James easily.

"Then you should join us," invited Dorea, clearly the spokesperson of the Potter family. "You as well, Ms. Evans."

The woman nodded decisively, stepping away from Charlus to wrap her arm around Hermione and draw her away from James, and down toward the cafe that they had seen the elder Potters heading toward before they spotted them.

Unable to see a way out of it, Hermione plastered a smile on her face and allowed Dorea to make small talk as they were seated by the window, overlooking the Alley. At the four-person table, Hermione was tucked closest to the window with James at her side, and Dorea and Charlus opposite her.

The quaint cafe was patterned like the night's sky, painted blue and black with dotted fairies and luminescent painted stars making the space feel cozy. Given a menu, Hermione glanced through the items – mostly bite-sized nibbles – and was amused to see the items were based off astronomy, as well.

They ordered, and Hermione grabbed the linen serviette, placing it on her lap and wringing it under the table where the elder Potters couldn't see her. It was nerve-wracking, being in the presence of Harry's grandparents.

"Are you doing your Yule shopping, dear?" asked Dorea as her tea was delivered.

Hermione nodded. "I've finished everything for my family. I just need to get something for my friend, now."

Charlus nodded, tilting his head in James' direction. "Ah yes, you mentioned you're a Ravenclaw, so your friend – is she one, too?"

Hermione glanced at James from the corner of her eye before replying. He nodded encouragingly. " _He_ ; and yes, he is."

Charlus still had a pleasant look on his face. "What's your friends' name? Maybe I can suggest something if James hasn't already..."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin with a present for Crouch," sighed James, rolling his eyes.

"Crouch?" Dorea's eyebrows shot up. "Surely not Bartemius Crouch's son? The Head Auror?"

"Yes," answered Hermione, watching James' parents carefully. They already had a low opinion of her sister; adding her best friend wasn't going to improve the situation.

"Hmm," hummed Dorea, a calculating look in her eyes as she surveyed Hermione anew.

Hermione could understand it; Lily was a prefect, a popular Muggle-born Gryffindor that James pined after for many years. Lily was bubbly, outgoing, vivacious, and for the most part, everyone liked her. Now, suddenly, Hermione appeared – a broody, quiet Ravenclaw Muggleborn who happened to be best friends with two prominent Purebloods – a Crouch, with connections to the Ministry, and a _Black_ of all people, one of the purest Pureblood names out there.

From an outside perspective, Hermione was a walking, talking warning label: _Here be a dangerous witch_.

Luckily, their food arrived before any more questions could be asked, and perhaps, sensing the mood, James launched into the story of Sirius trying to get Hermione's attention the previous holiday season and her punching him ( _am I never going to live that down?_ wondered Hermione sadly) that had both Potters chuckling.

And that was when the world exploded.

The glass in front of them cracked and splintered, shards flying into the cafe just as the resulting blast sent the four of them head over heels, tumbling backward as heat rippled across Hermione's skin.

When she opened her eyes, blinking back spots, she was lying flat on her back on the floor of the cafe, splintered wooden bits of the table surrounding her. James was on his side an arm's length away, pushing himself up and a gash across his cheek, bleeding profusely. His parents were nearby, Charlus already partially up, in a crouch and shouting something at other patrons while helping Dorea to her feet.

Outside the cafe, there were screams and flashes of sickly shades red, green, yellow spellfire, and cruel laughter. The noise was incredible – bits of snow from the ground was thrown in the air and came falling down in clouds of thick powder, and blood splattered across larger piles. There were some unmoving bodies nearby and Hermione swallowed thickly as she sat up, leaning on one side.

It was too much – too similar to the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione's wand hand twitched, and her instincts – dull from time and from her fuzzy memories – only had enough time to scream a warning at her; she abandoned the idea of using her wand at all and just thrust her free hand out.

The remains of the table, split in two and leaning on its side, warped and curved, creating a partial dome over Charlus and Dorea – the inner curl of a wave – just as the two green _Avada Kedavra_ s hit, sending chunks of wood spinning off in Hermione and James' direction.

On her knees, Hermione swept her hands and the chucks went spiralling into the wall. She began breathing heavily, and blinked, eyes wide. She had _never_ used her magic – or her transmutation abilities – to that degree before, and certainly not without serious visualization.

" _What was that?_ " James whispered, suddenly at her side and wrapping a large hand around her arm as he helped her to her feet.

"I—" Hermione didn't have an answer planned, but whatever she wanted to say was stopped when she shoved at James, sending him a few steps back, shock on his face.

"Hermione-!"

But then a sickly looking yellow spell flew between them, hitting a chair. The wood began to rot, and warp and the cushion faded before the threads unravelled and turned to dust. The entire decomposition took less than four or five seconds, James' mouth open wide as he realized Hermione saved him from the curse.

" _Holy shit_ ," breathed James, turning back to face Hermione.

She was looking out the window, brows furrowed. There was something on the air... a familiar sound... the cackle, sharp and high, penetrated Hermione's faded memories.

 _Bellatrix_.

Then Hermione was striding forward, toward the broken window, slipping her wand from her sleeve, feeling the comforting thrum of her magic course through her.

"James! Hermione! _No!_ " Dorea's voice, high and panicked, stopped James long enough to glance back at his parents; they had their wands out, making their way toward the two. Dorea, although worried for her son, had a fierce look on her aristocratic face, carved out of marble. Charlus was all fire, snapping instructions to those nearby who had their wands out and managing the cafe with the ease of a man who was used to giving orders and having those order _obeyed_.

They weren't Hermione's parents, though – she used a relatively intact chair to step on the seat and then on the thick frame of the window, kicking some shards left until they broke and then stood on the frame. She was a large target, but she could also see down the Alley – and at the robed figures near Flourish and Blotts.

There were no Death Eater masks – maybe there wouldn't be for a bit longer – but it was unmistakably them, even with the hoods of their robes drawn over and low, and an obscuring charm cast over the inside hood to conceal their faces. Hermione knew those tactics, knew that one laugh and knew how they fought.

There were six of them – not a large number, but enough. Bellatrix was one, next to a tall wizard with thrown back shoulders sending off spells with a snappy whip-motion – Hermione knew that was Rodolphus LeStrange.

There were two others, larger than the rest and causing more destruction with heavy-handed spell fire that was meant to blow things up. Another figure – one Hermione couldn't tell if they were male or female – was transfiguring the cobblestones as shields and was their defense.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and ignored them to focus on the last man, a lasso of hissing and spitting fire attached to his wand's tip. Then, that wizard turned his wand, raising it with a slashing motion toward the bookstore.

A family, huddled on the cold ground in front of the store, scrambled out of the way with the wizard pushing his children ahead of him.

 _Oh, I don't think so!_ thought Hermione, and send a nonverbal _expelliarmus_ at the Death Eater.

The wizard wasn't expecting it, and he yelped as his wand was wrenched from his grip, flying backward and disappearing into a snow bank between two shops. His shocked cry was enough to get Bellatrix's attention, and she turned, mockingly calling, "Oh, poor little wizard lost his wand!"

The wizard turned back to Bellatrix, but the woman ignored him and caught sight of Hermione, leaning out of the shop window.

"Do you want to play, little schoolgirl?" the other witch called, brandishing her own wand as she assumed a duelling stance. She held her wand above her head and brought out her left arm to counter her weight.

Hermione disdainfully eyed Bellatrix's pose. A duelling stance was no good on the battlefield, and as far as Hermione was concerned, this was no game. The Ravenclaw stepped out of the cafe, her boots crunching the snow below her. She had taken off her jacket when she sat, but Hermione could barely feel the cold. Her blood was thrumming, pulsing through her body with her magic. She was running hot and ready to fight.

The alley was still populated with shoppers, between the two women. A few people were lying motionless, their bodies riddled with marks and some, surrounded in a pool of drying blood; a few teen witches were crying, clutching each other near Malkin's, and a few elderly wizards and witches out for a stroll were either disarmed or inching their way down the alley and away from the robed figures.

Without warning, Hermione snapped off a skin-stripping spell – a charm for tanning cattle and nothing that was illegal but certainly had the ability to be dark. Bellatrix didn't recognize the dark brown colour, but smartly sidestepped it; it instead hit a charmed plant in front of a store behind her, and all the leaves withered and fell off.

The other woman paused, staring at the plant before slowly turning back to Hermione. "That wasn't very nice," she said, her voice low and surprised.

"Attacking a busy shopping area isn't nice, either," retorted Hermione with a snort.

Bellatrix tilted her head, the hood remaining in place. "True." Then she sent off her own spells – a flurry of red, white, and yellow. The spells flew by, and Hermione ducked, dodging. The spells slammed into the brick of the shops, sending crumbling stone onto a group of girls, who shrieked and covered their heads with their hands instead of using _protego_.

Hermione brought her wand up. _"Expulso_!"

Bellatrix twisted out of the spell's way, sending shards of cobblestone at Hermione. She prepared a wind spell to send the shards back, but a giant slab of stone rose between her and the shards, taking the brunt of them.

Hermione turned; James crouched in the frame of the cafe window, his own wand out.

"Thanks," she called, knowing she had it handled.

He nodded back, hazel eyes hardening as they turned back to the robed figures. He stepped out of the window frame, flicking his wand up. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the ground shook – loose stones from the spellfire trembled and began to rise, hovering in the air. Then, like the center of a black hole sucking things in, the loose stones began to clump together until they formed a giant troll, which let out a rumbling roar and began to lumber toward the other robed figures.

Hermione took advantage of James' transfiguration and charm work, sending several _Sectumsempra_ curses at Bellatrix. One caught her in the upper leg, making her shriek in pain, but she managed to avoid the other two.

The angered witch let out a wordless scream, sending _crucio_ toward Hermione. Hermione crouched to avoid the spell, but the second after it hit her in the chest, sending her flying back, winded. Her wand skittered away, out of reach. She gasped, struggled to breathe with what felt like the weight of the entire Hogwarts Express sitting on her sternum.

Stars appeared before her eyes, then Dorea was there, whispering something, and then Hermione could breathe, her lungs and ribs expanding without the same pain as before. She coughed and coughed some more as she rolled on her side.

She was facing forward, toward the Death Eaters. Charlus stood with James, both moving their wands in intricate, swishes and then flicks that turned the Alley into their playground; James' rock troll was attacking the two larger wizards, but their spells were damaging the creature and slowly carving out parts of its body or melting sections.

Charlus was using the shards from the cafe window, sending them flying toward the fire-lasso wizard and them boomeranging them when they flew past; the wizard cursed and barely managed to avoid the second pass from behind, flinging himself to the floor.

 _Disapparation jinx is up,_ thought Hermione grimly, looking around until she realized Rodolphus was monitoring the entire fight, holding himself back as he surveyed how things were going. He _is the one charge – the one holding the jinx!_

Hermione pushed herself up from her stomach, groaning as pain rippled across her shoulders and chest. She blindly held out her right hand, patting the slush and dirt for her wand. After a few moments of not finding it, she grit her teeth and rose to her feet.

"Ms. Evans – Hermione!" Dorea's voice was sharp, glancing back from where she stood in front of the Ravenclaw, keeping her from Bellatrix's sight. She flicked her wand to deflect another of Bellatrix's spells as she did so.

Distracted, she didn't see Bellatrix's next spell – but Hermione did. Hermione thrust out her hand, a nonverbal and wandless _ventus_ erupting and sending Hermione back to her knees from the force.

The wind blasted forward, toward Bellatrix. It was strong enough to send Dorea stumbling to the side, closing her eyes tight to the blast as it whipped up debris, dirt, and snow into a strong, furious swirl. It hit Bellatrix hard, sending her flying back and over the flame-lasso wizard who was slowly rising to his knees. Both fell back to the ground.

 _They're not fighting like they did at the Battle,_ thought Hermione, breathing heavily as she rose to her feet and wiped at her sweaty face with her hand. _These aren't the same killers I fought... they barely know what they're doing now._

With that in mind and a dark smile, Hermione knelt, pressing her hands to the cobblestone. Her magic crackled and blue sparks erupted like electricity from her hands, racing down the cracks in the stone in an uneven, jagged line, splitting toward Bellatrix and the other wizard while another branch went to James' rock troll.

Bellatrix yelped, jumping back to avoid the crackling energy as the cobblestones split and the fracture stones burst violently upward in spikes and shards.

Two large pieces caught the wizard with her, a sharp point slashing through his robes and stomach, spilling blood. The second burst upward with enough force and speed it severed his leg completely. He screamed, falling to the ground.

The energy racing up the rock troll fused itself in all its cracks, fixing the chunks the other wizards had made in the creature. It raised its hands and brought them down hard on the cobblestone, one hand narrowly missing one of the wizards. The ground shuddered and that wizard fell to his feet; nearby shoppers screamed in terror.

The other wizard avoided the hands coming down, but didn't avoid the backslap the rock troll made, sending him flying into the side of Eeylops Owl Emporium. The owls in the cages in the main window hooted and ruffled their feathers, sending grey and white and brown everywhere as they tried to avoid the wizard as he slumped bonelessly to the ground.

Rodolphus and the defending Death Eater were the last two, both standing warily out of the way. Hermione could feel Rodolphus' eyes on her, lingering as Bellatrix immobilized the bleeding wizard. He gave some sort of unspoken command, and the Disapparation jinx came crashing down –

Hermione shouted something, wordlessly, clenching her hands on the cobblestone beneath her –

A row of stone shards burst from the ground around the Death Eaters, a mountain range growing in a line toward the group, but just as it reached them, they disapparated, leaving Hermione panting and kneeling in the middle of Diagon Alley.

The quiet following everything - the lack of spellfire, or the screams and cries of those caught unaware, the _pop_ of disapparation - left a deafening silence. Everything was hypersensitive: Hermione could hear her harsh pants, feel a trickle of sweat as it made its way down her spine, and felt her magic tingle and pool near her wand hand…

"-ione? Hermione! Are you okay?"

Someone grabbed her by the arms, pulling her up and then, close.

She blinked and stared up at James. His hazel eyes were wide and there was a trickle of blood creeping its way down his cheek and under his jaw. The collar of his robes was already stained darker, indicating it had been oozing for a bit.

" _Hermione_!"

"I'm okay," the words were fuzzy and felt thick leaving her mouth, but as soon as she said, she knew it was true. The silence from the attack disappeared and sound came roaring back in: there were loud, heart-wrenching sobs somewhere, and a few shrill shouts for a mediwizard. Pops of apparation and blood red Auror robes swarmed around Diagon Alley, mixing in with the stains of red on the cobblestones and snow.

James gave her a dubious glance.

"You don't seem okay," he said, quietly, his eyes flicking down. Hermione followed his gaze and realized she had her left hand pressed tight against her shoulder, near her clavicle.

She made a tiny noise of surprise.

"My dear," inserted a feminine voice, and both James and Hermione looked toward it. It was Dorea, James' mother, who, with a pinched, worried look on her face, eased next to James with her wand out. "Let me take a look at that."

Hermione watched as Dorea moved closer, keeping her movements deliberate, fluid as her wand came up, and Hermione's hand fell from pressing against her shoulder. Dorea's mouth moved but no sound emerged as she cast her spells, and save for a brief heating of the area, Hermione did not notice anything cast on her body.

The grimace on Dorea's face was pronounced, however. James noticed it. "What? Mum, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Broken clavicle," she murmured in response. "Nothing some Skele-Gro can't fix."

"I can wait until I'm back at Hogwarts," replied Hermione evenly, her mind casting back to her time on the run when she and Harry starved themselves. The broken bone, although painful, especially when she breathed or attempted to move her right arm, was nowhere near the same pain that Bellatrix's cruciatius had on her.

" _Hogwarts_?" repeated a horrified Charlus, his hazel eyes wide as his greying eyebrows shot up under his messy hair.

Dorea seemed to echo her husband's thoughts. "Surely not, Ms. Evans. I can have one of our house elves bring some home-brew to us-"

"I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You're not," interjected James, his eyes on her. His face was pinched and there was a furrow between his thick black eyebrows. "Hermione, _please_."

Hermione sighed, and her shoulder twinged in pain. She grimaced and then nodded. "Alright – but I should probably be getting home." _And I need to let Barty and Reg know I'm okay, too._

"Of course," agreed Dorea in her victory with a soft smile. She turned to her son. "James, do you know where Ms. Evans lives?"

"I've never been—" the other teen started.

"Cokesworth," replied Hermione, interrupting the two. She was suddenly very tired. "We can use the Knight Bus—"

"I know the area," interrupted Charlus quietly. "We have ties to one of the steel companies."

James goggled. "We _do_?"

Charlus sent his son a _look_. "Not now, James. This isn't the time to go over our family's holdings."

"Yes, sir."

"Dory, can you stay and inform the Aurors where we are? I won't have them speak to Ms. Evans without one of us present," asked Charlus, turning to his wife.

Dorea nodded, her eyes already moving to fixate on a few of the late red-robed Aurors that began popping into the Alley or Floo'ing through connections, pouring out of places like Florean Fortesque's.

"Ms. Evans, I'm going to Side-Along you and James," continued Charlus, turning to face Hermione. She blinked and focused on the older man. "Have you Side-Along Apparated before?"

"Erm—" She didn't want to lie but she didn't want to tell the truth either.

Time, however, seemed to be of the essence for Charlus Potter as the Aurors moved closer, a few people in the Alley pointing their way. The man muttered an apology as James stepped closer and he reached for Hermione and his son in one movement, spinning on his heel.

Hermione's breath caught as they disapparated and their _pop_ just outside the abandoned quarry on the far side of Cokesworth echoed across the dirt and stone.

James was wide-eyed, looking around in fascination while Charlus brushed himself off absently, casting a look at the quarry that made him sigh. "How far is your home from here, Ms. Evans?"

"About ten minutes," Hermione replied, already walking. She was dressed in Muggle clothes, but neither Potter were. "You might want to change your appearance."

They began walking out of the quarry and down a dirt road between farmer's fields until the fields turned to a few detached cottages in stone. Then, the houses turned into a pub, a few shops, and then row houses, all with the same square and stone design that lined both sides of the street. Some had English flags hanging from the front, but most were unadorned.

"Cheerful place," muttered James, glancing about. When he realized what he said, he blushed, and mortified, turned to Hermione. "I am so sorry—"

"No, that's about right," she replied. "It's dour here. There's high unemployment from a lack of mining jobs, and we're too far from Leeds for commerce; not to mention, we're not on the sea."

Their walk through town was quick as Hermione kept them to the side streets and away from the main shopping area, small as it was. Soon they stopped at an end unit, the only distinguishable feature separating it from the rest. It was at the end of the long street, overlooking what should be a park but was a large, muddy field.

"This is me," she announced, almost grimly. Without anything else, Hermione stepped through the open gate, walked up to the path, and then opened the front door. Charlus and James followed silently, both cataloging the Muggle house as they entered the warm house from the chilly December air.

"Hermione, love, is that you?" a feminine voice called from the length of the narrow hallway behind a swinging door. "I thought you'd be longer out with your friends."

A woman in her early forties pushed the swinging door open, wiping her hands on a tea towel. She froze at the sight of the three of them standing in the same entry foyer, dropping her tea towel on the floor as she cried, "Hermione – you're bleeding!"

"Hey mum," said Hermione, realizing she must look a fright. "I came home early because there was a bit of an incident—"

" _Oh my God!_ " Petunia's shrill voice from their left, in the living room, had Hermione turning.

Petunia, back from the term, was staring in horror at Hermione's dirt and blood-caked form, still missing her jacket just as behind her Leo appeared. From the top of the stairs and drawn by her mother and sister's voices, Lily appeared and began walking down them, her eyes flickering between her family and Charlus and James.

"Madam Evans," began Charlus, stepping forward, and then suddenly there were five voices trying to all speak at once.

Charlus moved to Rose and Leo, while Petunia flew toward her younger sister in a panic. Hermione turned to face her instead of Lily, who stood on the bottom stair, near enough to be part of the conversation.

"What _happened_?" demanded Petunia, her eyes flicking up and down Hermione's thin sleeves. She looked up, and barked, "Lily – go grab a wet towel from the toilet for Hermione, and some antiseptic!"

Hermione sighed, trying to fend off her sister's hands. "Tuney, I'm okay—"

"You're not, mum said you have a broken clavicle and need Skele-Gro," interjected James, his own eyes worried as he hovered at Hermione's other side.

"You have a _what_?" shrieked Rose, overhearing James as Charlus finished briefly explaining what happened. "What's Skele-Gro? Leo – quick, we need to get to the hospital-!"

"Skele-Gro is a potion that grows bones or fixes breaks in them," explained Charlus to both Petunia and Hermione's horrified parents. "It'll be uncomfortable but fine, once Ms. Evans drinks a bit. She'll be perfectly healed by tomorrow afternoon."

Rose and Petunia still looked skeptical, but Leo was intrigued. "Damn, I could've used that during my rugby days."

Charlus turned to Leo and asked, curiously, "Rugby?"

Lily came racing down the stairs, holding a wet towel in her hands that she thrust at Hermione. "Here, Hermione!"

Her eyes were wide, and she pressed between James and Petunia, edging out the other Gryffindor with her shoulder as the three sisters formed a huddled triangle. Hermione took the towel and began to wipe at her hands, which she could see were caked with dirt from when she fell and cast her transmutation.

Petunia made a noise, and then took the towel from Hermione, hauling her closer and beginning to rub at her fingers and palms with focused energy.

"Mr. Potter said there was an attack," said Lily quietly, looking between Hermione and James. "Like a terrorist attack? Like the IRA?"

Hermione took a moment to make the connection – in her time, the IRA was a product of history, with Sinn Féin leading Northern Ireland instead, but in the 1970s, the IRA was still very active and Ireland was currently experiencing the Troubles.

"The who?" asked James, confusion etched on his face. "Are they wizards?"

Petunia, done with Hermione's hands, moved closer and began to scrub at the blood on her neck and cheek. Hermione let her, although she shot a disgruntled look at Petunia who ignored it entirely, focused on a spot on Hermione's cheek instead.

"They're Muggles," answered Lily.

"Oh."

"I don't know who they were," lied Hermione, shaking her head, causing Petunia to make a noise of complaint.

"Don't move!" the eldest Evans sister instructed sternly.

Hermione heaved a long-suffering sigh and stilled, but she caught James' eyes. He smirked at her, his eyes laughing despite no sound coming from him. Hermione scowled at him instead, but his smirk turned into his lop-sided grin instead.

This was all done without any words – and with Lily watching the two.

"Did you meet up at Diagon to spend the day together?" she blurted, finally.

Petunia stopped scrubbing.

James sputtered, "What?"

"Did you?" she demanded, green eyes flicking between the two.

Hermione frowned. "I was with Barty and Reg. Speaking of, I should owl them to let them know I'm okay."

James nodded. "We should probably go home. Sirius probably went straight there if he couldn't find us at the Alley."

Charlus, overhearing his son, turned away from Leo. It seemed the two were having a lively discussion on sports, with Rose stuck between the two, torn between seeing to her youngest daughter or being amused by the two men.

"A solid plan, James," the eldest Potter said. "Your mother is probably expecting us." He turned to Hermione, still in Petunia's grip. "Ms. Evans, I'll have one of our house elves come by later tonight with a bottle of Skele-Gro for you to take."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you."

There was a fond look in his eyes as he surveyed her. "I should be thanking _you_. I did see what you wall blocked. Without you, I don't think my wife and I would be here."

James made a noise as if realizing only then what could've happened to his parents.

Charlus walked down the narrow hall, at the cluster in front of the door. Lily was forced to step back on the stairs, out of the way, while Petunia and Hermione moved into the living room, leaving James and Charlus by the front door.

The wizard stopped in front of Hermione and made a tiny bow. "Thank you again, Ms. Evans. The Potters are in your debt."

James mimicked his father. "Thank you, Hermione."

"I did what any witch should do," she replied instead, looking between the two Potters. "But you're welcome."

Charlus placed a hand on James' shoulder. "Please rest up for the rest of your holiday."

"I'll..." James trailed off, glancing at his father and then back at Hermione, determinedly ignoring Petunia's narrowing eyes or Lily's widening ones. "I'll write to you, okay?"

"Okay," agreed Hermione easily.

Charlus spun on his heel and the two were gone with a loud _pop_ , causing Rose to shriek, "What was that? Where did they go?" and then ask, "Did they not want to stay for a roast?"

"I think they have other things on their mind, mum," replied Hermione, turning to face her. Petunia took the opportunity and launched forward, renewing her scrubbing. "Ouch! Ouch, Tuney – lay off, that _hurts_!"

"Well, then don't go and nearly get yourself killed, idiot!" snapped Petunia, scrubbing harder.

"I wasn't _planning_ on it, God," moaned Hermione.

"Hermione Jane Evans, watch your mouth," cautioned her mother, shaking her head and muttering something about witches under her breath before turning back into the kitchen.

Leo grinned, shaking his head. "Nice bloke, Charlus Potter." He cast a wink and a knowing look at his youngest when he finished, "Maybe you should ask that James around some time, 'Mione."

"Dad!" shouted Hermione at the same time as Lily.

He glanced between the two, something dawning on him as he did so. Then he shook his head, retreating into the living room.

Petunia used the dirty towel to point at Hermione and then upstairs. "Oi, you. Shift. To the toilet so I can finish scrubbing you clean."

"Ugh."

Hermione stomped up the stairs, past Lily who watched her go, biting her lower lip and playing with the ends of her hair nervously. Petunia followed with a satisfied look on her face.

In the bathroom, Hermione perched herself on the edge of the bathtub, her hands tucked between her knees as she scowled at Petunia standing in front of her by the sink. She had another towel in her hands. The two of them were silent as they heard the floorboard creak and groan as Lily walked by into her room, shutting the door.

Petunia sighed. "So that's James Potter."

Hermione tilted her head. "Yeah, and?"

"It's nice to put a face to a name, that's all," replied Petunia, but her voice was deceptively light. She turned around and held the cloth out. "Face the window so I can get at this cut on your cheek."

Hermione did as instructed, staring out at the muddy field. "I thought Lily was pretty descriptive when complaining about him.

"Yes," agreed Petunia, "But it's one thing hearing about a toerag that plays pranks and annoys her to seeing the wizard worried about _you_."

"What?" Hermione's heart stopped.

Petunia pulled back and stared at Hermione. "Didn't you realize? He totally fancies you. It honestly makes me wonder what he was doing with Lily. I mean, all those pranks? That was probably for attention. With you though, it's different." She paused. "Unless he pranks you too?"

"He doesn't," replied Hermione, eyes wide. "You think he – he _fancies_ me?"

"Sure," nodded Petunia. "And I totally know these things, of course. Being the only one of the three of us with a boyfriend."

"Speaking of, how's Sean?" asked Hermione in hopes of changing the topic.

Petunia cast her sister a knowing look but answered, "Swell. He's down in London, too, you know."

"No, I didn't."

" _Mmhmm_ – and you know, he's totally fit from rugby but your James? He's pretty dreamy, isn't he? A bit of a David Cassidy."

"TUNEY!"

* * *

The return to Hogwarts following one of the first public attacks by Death Eaters on Voldemort's orders was a quiet and tense one; to some degree, the wizards and witches of magical Britain were unsure of what to make of such a brazen and violent mark on Diagon Alley, thinking it signified something terrible to come. To others, it was just a political upstart and the Aurors would catch them soon enough, nothing more than a blip in wizarding life.

Hermione was one of the first category, who knew this was the quiet before the storm. Like the older generations, the ones who experienced and lived through not just Grindelwald, but earlier conflicts - they all recognized the signs and were wearily quiet. A few of the children on the Hogwarts Express were like Hermione (those with family who remembered), but the majority of her classmates and schoolmates were giddy, catching up with friends about their holidays and Yule gifts or where they went on vacation. None seemed to make the connection of Hermione and the Potters at the Alley, which she was thankful for.

 _Fools_ , the bitter part of Hermione whispered as she did her best not to let her lip curl up in disgust as several seventh-year Slytherins strode past her, haughtily comparing their Yule presents to one another, trying to outdo the others in who received the best gifts.

Hermione's shoulder still twinged with phantom pain, despite Dorea Potter's kindness in healing her wound. Absently, Hermione raised a hand and rubbed her palm against the shoulder, near her clavicle, and grimaced.

It took only a few moments but she found Barty and Regulus already in a compartment, conversing in low tones. There was a strain on their faces - for Barty, it was the fact of hiding his near-lycanthropy from his parents on a daily basis while at home, and for Regulus, it was the knowledge of what occurred at Diagon Alley. Hermione was sure that Bellatrix - already a year married to Rodolphus Lestrange - had been involved. There were a few too many moments that sounded like her familiar cackle, or her brand of spellfire…

"'Lo, Hermione," muttered Barty, bags under his eyes as he tipped his head back to rest on the seat. He then closed his eyes. A full moon was looming, just a few days out.

Regulus nodded at her. "Had a good break?"

"Oh, peachy, after that little scuffle in Diagon," she replied, keeping her voice deceptively light to mask her sarcasm. She flopped down on the seat next to Barty, digging through her beaded bag to pull out a large text and a notebook for her thoughts.

In the meantime, they engaged in some small talk, some random bits of information tossed back and forth as the Hogwarts Express left London and began its meandering path north.

("How's Dirk?"

"Fine. You know we're not together anymore."

Barty's face lit up in joy. "I won't have to play nice?"

"You still have to play nice, stupid, he's my friend."

His face fell.)

Hermione allowed some time to pass before she thought to speak. Regulus was also reading a book, looking studious with a furrow between his brows, while Barty was slightly wheezing as his form of snoring, taking a nap with his head against the window. As such, Hermione tried to be as nonchalant as possible when she looked up from her book.

She pitched her voice into the most innocent muster she could. "Say, Barty…"

"Yes?" her friend replied, although his voice was slow from sleep.

"I have an idea for one of my transmutation circles," she began, a gleam in her eyes. Regulus now looked up across the compartment at his friends. "D'you think you could ask your dad or his contacts to get me some basilisk venom?"

Barty's eyes drifted open, now more a honey tone than the dark brown they previously were due to the disease running through his blood. They were hooded as his head rolled from the window to his opposite shoulder as he looked at Hermione, but eventually, he nodded. And yawned.

"Yeah, sure, no problem," he mumbled, eyes shut again. "Do you know how much you need?"

"Not too much. A hundred mil or so?"

Regulus's eyebrows shot up, and his eyes drifted between the two incredulously. "Why do you need basilisk venom?"

"Oh, well, I read this most interesting article in _Potions Quarterly_ the other week," began Hermione, turning to Regulus and ensuring she sounded breathlessly excited as she spoke. Her eyes went wide and she stretched a smile across her face, despite feeling awful at the falsity of her intent. "And I was curious about this ritual that the Aztec used with basilisk venom in the ceremony of Huitzilopochtli-" Regulus was immediately envious of Hermione's ability to rattle of foreign names and words while pronouncing them correctly "-who, you might know, is the brother of Quetzalcoatl, the Aztec serpent God-"

Hermione continued rambling about the two were brothers, how the ritual was connected to both, that the venom was a component along with hummingbird feathers - Regulus let Hermione's voice wash over him, but there was a part of him, a very loud part that was screaming: _hogwash_.

But her let her speak, let her rant, and when they finally arrived at Hogwarts, after the carriages, and they went to their separate tables, the Black heir thought, _I need to keep an eye on this. There's something else going on._

Two weeks later, after Barty delivered the venom from a friend of a friend of his father's - on the more shady side of dealings with the MLE - Regulus was proved right when Hermione waved goodbye to Barty at the end of one of their weekend study sessions in their abandoned classroom. Their Ravenclaw friend - who was almost perpetually joined at Hermione's hip - did not balk at being waved on (so Regulus was able to deduce that Hermione planned this in advance), especially since it was one of the first Saturdays that they had free for the three of them to get together after Hermione and Barty's prolonged tutoring session punishment.

Finally, when the room was empty and it was only the two of them left, Hermione turned to Regulus and looked at him, carefully, for several long moments before she asked, "Do you think you could get _Magick Moste Evile_ sent to you from the library at Grimmauld?"

Immediately, both eyebrows fell into a straight line that mimicked Regulus's mouth as he stared at Hermione. His confusion and wariness of Hermione's research shifted into alarm.

"Hermione," began Regulus carefully, "Why do you need that book?"

Then, something else crossed his mind; his eyebrows shot up in concern and he voiced it. " _How_ did you know the library at Grimmauld has that book?"

Hermione demurred, looking away and bringing a hand up to rub at her shoulder - the one she injured during the Diagon Alley attack. Regulus's grey eyes traced the movement, and he realized that this was her newest tell - a worrisome and absent gesture that he was sure she barely realized she was making.

"It has to do with the basilisk venom, Reg," she said instead after a few moments, giving him a tiny smile.

 _True, but not fully,_ his mind screamed at him.

"There was a corresponding part in that book I wanted to cross check with my original translation from the Aztec material I found…"

"That doesn't answer my question of how you knew what was in the library," said Regulus, his voice low.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Sirius told me it was there-"

"Lie," spat Regulus, something dark and dangerous growing in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was worry, fear, or anger. "Sirius hates those books. He looked at it once and then promptly forgot about it. Deliberately. He'd never tell _you_ about that book or what's in it even if he was being tortured with the _cruciatus_."

The two stared at each other for a bit longer. Finally, barely moving her mouth at all, Hermione said, "I can't tell you."

"Bullshite."

Both startled at the Muggle curse word that slipped through Regulus's mouth, wide-eyed. Regulus recovered first. "Pull the other one."

Hermione's mouth flattened. " _I. Can't. Tell. You_."

"You just don't want to," challenged Regulus instead. His inner Slytherin began to throw suggestions on how to emotionally manipulate his friend and wheedle the information from her. Another part, the one that sounded like his brother, cautioned him.

For the first time in his life, Regulus listened to that voice that sounded like Sirius.

Eventually, Hermione's face cracked. "How good is your Occlumency?"

 _Occlumency?_ Regulus mentally blinked. _What in Merlin's name is Hermione involved with…?_

He sniffed in response to her question. "It's perfect; I'm a Pureblood and a Black, Hermione. What else would you expect?"

Hermione sighed in relief, closing her eyes. "No one can crack it?"

"No."

There was something in her eyes when she stressed, "Not even Dumbledore?"

"No," replied Regulus, although it was slower, concern slowly overtaking any fear he had.

"Fine." Hermione glanced around the room, finally landing back on Regulus, and said, "Follow me."

Curious, Regulus followed Hermione as she strode briskly through the Hogwarts hallways, from their abandoned room up and down different sets of stairs and behind hidden passageways. After the first few, Regulus wanted to ask where she was taking him, but Hermione shushed him, pausing behind a tapestry on the third floor.

As he strained his ears, Regulus heard voices pass. _She's taking me in a roundabout where to wherever we're going to avoid being seen!_

Admiration bled into his thoughts. _Clever_.

Then worry crept in. _Why doesn't she want anyone knowing I'm with her or where we're going?_

He shot a look at the back of her curly head, wondering if maybe his Ravenclaw friend was cleverer and deadlier than he had pegged her for and if she was going to kill him or torture him. Neither would surprise him, given her interest in the Dark Arts - if that was what the book was about - but there was something strange about a Muggle-born being that deeply involved in dark magic and blood rituals.

Finally, Hermione stopped on the seventh floor, down a dusty corridor.

"Wait here," she instructed, and to his confusion, began pacing back and forth in front of a blank wall. After the third pass, a door appeared and Regulus would deny that his mouth dropped open in surprise.

"What-?"

"Wait until we're inside."

Regulus did so, following Hermione and letting himself be taken in by the sheer excess of flotsam in the large room. From the floor to ceiling, there were piles of knick-knacks and brick-a-brack, leftover pieces of furniture, broken or otherwise; trunks, mannequins, empty frames, books - the sheer number of books was staggering and Regulus salivated at the idea of sorting through them and finding some hidden treasure - and oodles of clothing and armour from forgotten eras long past.

There were tiny, narrow passages between these piles, some piles so large and high that they blocked whatever came next around it, but Hermione seemed to know where she was going, and Regulus followed her. His curiosity demanded it by this point.

But he slipped his wand from his holster, just in case, keeping it pointed at the floor instead of his friends' back.

Hermione rounded the corner of one large pile and made an "A-ha!" noise of triumph. She had stopped by a large dark oak cabinet, standing at least two heads' taller than her, and next to it was a mannequin wearing a strange, antique diamond-crusted diadem.

Hermione turned to him, her face flush was success. "I wasn't sure I would find it so quickly - it's been ages since I've been here - and I was _so_ sure I'd forgotten-" she stopped, eyes dropping to Regulus's wand. The flush faded from her face and she warily looked at her friend. "Reg?"

But in the time she had begun speaking, Regulus had his eyes focused on the diadem.

 _It can't be_ , he thought initially, staring at it. But then he took a step closer and shuddered as he felt the thick, heady ooze of dark magic seek its way toward him, its tendrils slinking forward.

Somewhere, behind his Occlumency shield, he could hear a sibilant voice purr, _Yes, yes, Regulus - put me on and I shall reveal all truths to you. The truth about your friend that she has been hiding since the very first day you met, and so much more…_

Regulus swallowed thickly, tearing his eyes from the antique headpiece and shifted his wide eyes to Hermione instead. Horror stole through him as he realized what the sibilant voice was, what the diadem actually _was_.

Through a numbed mouth, fear battling with worry, he spoke. "Hermione. Hermione, _you didn't_."

Hermione stared back at Regulus. "What?"

"Hermione, tell me, Merlin above," Regulus's words were beginning to trip over themselves and he took an aborted step away from her, from the Horcrux. "Tell me you didn't split your soul-"

Thoughts rushed through his mind - _how do I stop her? How CAN I stop her? What did she do? Why did she do it? What spell would best work to knock her off her feet? COULD I stop her? Do I even want to - this is my friend - this is_ Hermione _\- just because she's made a Horcrux, does that mean I'm not her friend anymore_ -

"What?" repeated Hermione, and then she blinked. Horror overcame her and then disgust stole across her face.

"Jesus Christ, Regulus," she snapped, slipping into Muggle blasphemy, "It's not bloody mine. It's Voldemort's."

Everything that had been racing through Regulus's mind immediately crashed to a stop when her final word penetrated his brain.

"I beg your pardon."

"Look, I know it's hard to believe-"

"That's putting it lightly-"

"Don't be a child," she snapped back, "Because right now all our emotions are heightened from this damn thing too, despite Occlumency shields-"

" _You_ have Occlumency shields?" suspicion coated Regulus's voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What do you want to focus on, Black? Occlumency shields or one of Voldemort's _freaking soul-infested Horcruxes_?"

 _Valid point_ , he thought.

"How do you know this is a Horcrux-" he stopped. Blinked. His voice crept higher until it was panicked and shrill. "I'm sorry, did you just say _'one of_ '?"

Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her hair, catching the brown and red-tinged curls with her fingers. She yanked her hand out and closed it into a fist. "He's… made several. This is… just one of them."

Nausea battled with fear. Regulus's suspicious nature was screaming at him, and he shifted his weight, palming his wand in his sweaty hand. "Hermione, how do you know about this? How could a _Muggleborn_ know about Horcruxes? What's going on?"

Wearily, Hermione replied, "I can't tell you."

"You don't want to."

"No, I really…" she turned her head away. "I can't tell you. You wouldn't believe me."

Regulus stared at her. "Are you… are you pretending to be a Muggleborn?"

"No." There was something dead in her eyes as she replied, her voice monotone.

"How did you learn about Horcruxes?" he tried a new question.

"I read about them in a book."

He narrowed his eyes on her. "Where?"

Her mouth twitched. "In my bedroom."

His narrowed eyes resembled slits now. "... You're not lying."

"I'm not," she agreed. _Just remembering a time that hasn't happened yet,_ she thought, keeping the thought tightly hidden behind her shields, of reading about Horcruxes from Dumbledore's research at Grimmauld Place.

Regulus breathed heavily through his nose, closing his eyes tightly. He brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose, and then began to run a finger between his eyebrows, rubbing at the spot.

"Okay," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Okay."

When he opened his eyes again, Hermione was watching him carefully. She glanced down at his hand, his wand hand, and asked him, quietly, "Are you going to curse me?"

Regulus looked down at his wand as well, as if startled to find it was still in his hand. When he looked up, he asked, just as carefully, "Are you a risk to me?"

Hermione's eyes flashed and held his. "Never."

He swallowed and then deliberately let his wand slide back into his leather holster, a variant of an Auror-grade piece his father splurged on him for his birthday. Once it was back in his holster, both Regulus and Hermione relaxed.

"You're not going to answer me, are you?" he asked.

She shook her head.

Regulus's eyes skipped back to the diadem. "That's Rowena Ravenclaw's, isn't it?"

"Yeah." There was something soft, sad, in her voice. "It is."

"And he… he made more?"

He could feel the weight of Hermione's eyes on him, but he refused to look at his friend.

 _I know Bellatrix is involved with this wizard - Voldemort, he calls himself. He says he supports the pureblood cause. That he'll bring back the Old Ways. But this…_ although the diadem was something beautiful, something that had long faded into myth, Regulus wasn't stupid. He had read _Magick Moste Evile_ and he knew what a Horcrux was. He knew how to make one. He knew what it did to the person who split their soul. "He's insane."

Hermione was slower in replying. "To some degree, yes. It'll get worse over time. But right now? He's still fairly powerful. And he's clever."

"They want me," he finally admitted, glancing at her. "They knew Sirius would never say yes. And they already have Bella - and I think Cissa is involved, too-"

"I know, Reg."

He closed his eyes. "I-" he stuttered, choking on the words. "I- I don't- I don't want to-"

A small, delicate, cold hand reached out and touched his. He caught Hermione's and clenched it tightly, squeezing to the point of pain but allowed her to ground him.

When he opened his eyes, he turned partially to look at her but did not drop her hand. Something tightened in his chest, shortly, and then eased as he said, "What do you need from me? What do you need me to do?"

And when she smiled at him, it something sad - but it lifted his heart all the same.

* * *

TBC...

 **Notes:** Thanks for the well-wishes! The hub's had 30+ interviews and 3 offers in a month, so he's a bit tuckered out with the whole job hunt process. :) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter in both parts. Things should be back on track now and not another 6 months for an update...


	13. Hold On

THIRTEEN

You don't get to choose when or who you meet. However, you do get to choose who you hold on to.

\- _The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (Toki o kakeru shôjo)_ (2006)

* * *

 **Notes:** As a reminder, I don't have an updating schedule, but I manage about one 20-page chapter per story _per month_ , which explains the length between updates as I rotate between my stories. I am still doing this _in between writing my Ph.D. dissertation._ So obviously, despite my supervisor aware of my writing of fanfiction, my doctoral work comes first.

* * *

December 1975

"DERANGED WIZARDS ATTACK YULE SHOPPERS IN DIAGON ALLEY," the headline screamed on the following days' _Daily Prophet_.

James couldn't stop staring at it, couldn't stop staring at the accompanying image that was blown up to cover the entire front fold. Despite being in black and white, James would wince at the beginning of each playback loop, from the final explosion of debris being catapulted through the air, the focus on the mad, cackling female form and the hooded men being blown back, and the single emphasis of the puddle of blood, darkly stark against the white snowbank.

He could feel the lingering anxiety and adrenaline from the event rush through his veins and lungs, and James clenched his hands tightly into fists as he sat at the breakfast table, eyes fixated on his father's paper despite the older man rustling it and clearing his throat, ignoring his toast in favour of whatever section he was reading.

 _How can you be so calm about this?_ thought James, lifting his eyes from the headline to look at his father, seeing only his hazel eyes as they swept back and forth across the text he was reading, and his more salt-than-pepper hair. Sitting at his father's right, Dorea was focused on stirring her honey into her tea with poise.

Both his parents seemed remarkably calm that morning. Swallowing thickly, James looked down at his clenched hands and slowly unfurl them, watching as they shook with minor trembles. They had been so close to the _Avada Kedavra_ \- they could've died if it weren't for Hermione - James nearly _died_ watching her leap out of the blasted window - her duel with the other woman, getting flung back -

"James, darling, pass the butter please."

James' head shot up to stare at his mother.

Dorea's grey eyes focused on her son, waiting for his acknowledgment, and when it failed, she said again, a bit stronger, "James. The butter, please."

With a shaking hand, James reached out and slid the butter tray toward his mother, who watched him with a carefully neutral expression on her face. Her son kept his face down, facing the table. Clearing her throat, she caught her husband's attention, causing Charlus to lower the paper briefly and catch his wife's eyes.

She then flicked hers toward their son, and Charlus gave a small, inaudible sigh as he folded the paper and placed it to the side.

"James."

James' head snapped up, and Charlus briefly winced at the look in his son's eyes. His heart ached for the raw pain that was etched on James' face - from a sleepless night, if the bruises under his glasses were any indication - but also by the lowered pull to his mouth in worry.

Charlus reached forward and placed his hand on James' shoulder. "Son, it's alright to be scared. But it's over now. This is the drain from everything. You'll be fine in a few days."

James looked down at his lap, clenching his hands in his lap. "You're right, I'm sure you're right - but I - I can't help but _remember_ \- see it all in my mind every time I close my eyes-"

"Darling," breathed Dorea, leaning across the table toward her son, her eyes shining. "We're here. We're fine."

"But you _weren't_!" protested James, the words bursting from him quickly. He blinked rapidly, glancing away. He whispered, "I saw the spell, too. I saw it."

Dorea and Charlus exchanged another glance. "Spell?" asked Charlus carefully, his hand a warm, comforting weight on James.

"The Killing Curse," breathed James, his voice so low and quiet both adults had to strain to hear him, even in the silence of their dining room. "If it weren't for Hermione - if she hadn't thrown up the table to protect you-"

Both his parents were silent as they waited for James to process and work through his own emotions of the skirmish the other day.

"Hermione - I always knew she was powerful. She did things this past year that I couldn't ignore. But… but seeing her fight like that?" he shook his head. "I - I used to think that battles would be something glorious to be involved in. That being an Auror would be the best, hunting down and fighting Dark Wizards."

"Oh, James," sighed Charlus, the hand spasming a bit on his shoulder. "I would've told you the truth if you had asked about the Aurors. But it isn't like that. It never was, and I doubt it ever will be."

"But you talk about your time with them with… with all these fond memories," argued James, peeking over the edge of the rim of his glasses at his father.

Charlus snorted. "To entertain a seven-year-old wizard who dreams of being a Gryffindor and saving the day. They were _stories_ , James. Reality is never like what we imagine it to be."

"I fear we're straying from the point now," interrupted Dorea, her voice low. "The truth is, you're right to be scared, James. We were seconds away from dying when Miss Evan's transfiguration saved us."

 _I don't think that was transfiguration,_ thought James, his mental voice small and worrisome in his mind. _What_ I _do is transfiguration, and that dome remained in form even after the spells hit. It was permanent._

"We owe her a Life Debt," continued Charlus, and James squished his lips together to keep a hysterical laugh in. Hermione was just racking up the Life Debts now, especially after the Shrieking Shack incident last year. Between her and James, they would have a direct debt of help from both elder Potters and Snape to save their lives, and aid from Crouch.

"I would like to know more about her, James," continued Dorea, her voice a touch on the imperious side. "You never mentioned her before, when… when speaking about your fellow Gryffindors. That such a remarkable girl is the sister of one - well! You'd think she would stand out more at Hogwarts."

"She hates the attention," muttered James. "It's why she's only friends with Crouch and Regulus. I think most of her house dislikes her, actually. I've never seen anyone - from any year - really interact with her other than Crouch."

Charlus frowned. "They don't bully her, do they?"

"Not that I saw," he replied quickly, thinking back but his memories of Hermione sadly only began when Professor Pythas cornered him and told him to attend tutoring sessions to improve his grades for his OWL.

 _Why did I only notice her_ now _?_ he wondered, his mouth pulling further down. Hermione was - not fun, she was a bit too bossy and intimidating for that, but she was wicked smart, and sharp, and dangerous in a way that made James' breath quicken and his palms sweaty and his heartbeat thunder in his chest. It was like all his senses were heightened and when she walked into a room he was in, he could pinpoint her like he had a permanent tracking charm on her, attuned only to him.

"She wasn't scared," said James, breaking into the silence that fell after he last spoke; his parents were still wrapped in their own thoughts regarding the young Ravenclaw. "Hermione. She was on the window ledge and then out on the street, fighting against - against that witch-"

"Yes. _Her_ ," Dorea's mouth pinched into a tight, unpleasant line, and James found himself wondering if his mother knew who the cloaked woman was, just like Hermione. But with Hermione, the fight had seemed _personal_.

"She was very impressive," said Charlus, slowly, causing James to look at him. "She could certainly hold her own, and she moved like she had fought before."

"Was that why you were asking if she was bullied? You think she's had to defend herself before?" asked James, horrified.

Charlus did not reply, but James found himself thinking that was likely, and resolved to keep an eye on Hermione when he returned to Hogwarts in January. Perhaps his pranks should've been aimed at the Ravenclaws as well, and not just the Slytherins…

"But, darling," interrupted Dorea, pulling James' attention to her next. "You do realize that it's not your job to fight, do you?"

"Mum, I-"

"James. We're your parents. _We_ protect _you_. Not the other way around," his mother added, firmly. Her Black eyes - the same grey-silver that she shared with her family - bore into James. "I didn't want you going out there to fight. I didn't want _Miss Evans_ to go out there and fight. You're children."

"But - but I did go out. With Dad," stuttered James, looking between his parents with wide eyes.

"You did, James," agreed Charlus readily, nodding. "And we did well together. But it would've been just as fine had you stayed safe in the cafe. It would be one less thing for me to think or worry about when fighting."

Heat filled James; but he was unsure if it was from anger or shame. He fought well! He helped defend Diagon Alley! But then, he'd remember how frightened he was, at how loud everything had been and the smell of ozone as the amount of magic during Hermione's attack on the witch and wizard had made the show around her melt, wavering in the air…

"I - I think - I've lost my appetite," mumbled James, his stomach rolling at the memory. "May I please be excused?"

"Of course, darling," murmured Dorea in reply.

James did not look at his parents as he pushed back his chair and stood, quickly walking from the room until he was outside. He leaned against the cool wall and let his head tilt back until it rested against the panel, breathing deeply through his nose.

The door to the dining room had been left open a crack - he hadn't closed it fully when he left - and his parents' soft voices filtered through to him.

"-I'll contact a few friends I still have in the Aurors," Charlus was saying. "I'll ask them to discreetly forget that an underaged girl was fighting in the Alley yesterday. To protect her."

"A good idea. She doesn't need the attention, nor do I think she'd like it," agreed Dorea, just as quietly. Thoughtfully. "And - well, if I know my niece, I do not think she would do that alone. She likes chaos, but this was still too organized for her."

Charlus sighed. "This won't stop any rumours. There were too many eyewitnesses, of course, but we can contain this somewhat and keep her safe."

"For now."

"Yes, for now."

There was some silence, and James held his breath, tilting his head just slightly toward the door as his ears strained to hear more.

"I think we should learn more about her," his mother finally said, very quietly - so quietly James barely heard her.

"I agree," replied Charlus, his own voice a low rumble. "She's ridiculously powerful for a fifteen-year-old witch."

"And intelligent. _Too_ intelligent," agreed Dorea.

"She seems nice, though," sighed Charlus, with a rustling noise that James assumed was his paper as he picked it up again.

Dorea's voice was grim when she spoke. "So did Tom."

 _Tom? Who is that?_ wondered James, frowning. But he moved away from the door, quietly, taking all his stealth lessons from pranking at Hogwarts until he was in his own bedroom, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling.

"She's not a threat," he muttered, arms crossed and his palms cupping the back of his head as he relaxed. "She's not. I trust her."

 _But that doesn't mean I'm not going to keep a better eye on her this term,_ he promised himself.

* * *

"Everyone's talking about it," muttered Sirius, his grey eyes flickering back and forth as he walked with James. King's Cross station - the magical side - was filled was families as they said goodbye to their children and friends, but there was an undercurrent of tension in some people that felt off; some were far more aware of what occurred in Diagon Alley, while others just enjoyed the gossip.

The eldest Black had met up with James the moment Dorea Apparated him to the station, saying a quick goodbye and leaving James to get on the train with Sirius. Although Sirius was supposed to stay with them over the holidays, the attack on Diagon Alley meant he stayed with Regulus until it was over and then took him back home to Grimmauld Place; from there, he didn't have an opportunity to leave for the rest of the holiday period, and it was apparent with his slightly manic personality and the rough edginess in his behaviour and gestures.

"Not everyone," muttered James, glancing at a giggling pair of Gryffindors who were eyeing him and then giggled to one another, whispering from behind their hands.

"Forget them," muttered Sirius, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulders and bumping against him. He shot the girls a look and then directed James away, toward the train. "'Sides, I thought you were interested in the wee Evans?"

James glanced around. "You know I am."

"Then why would it bother you if other girls are looking at you? You never strayed when you were interested in Lily," commented Sirius, raising his eyebrows as they both climbed the steps to the train compartment. "Given how you feel, I doubt you'd even have the tiniest _inkling_ of a thought for someone else when you're actively pursuing Evans."

"I'm not… exactly pursuing her," winced James, running a hand through his hair as he sighed, feet automatically taking him to his usual compartment. He opened the door, sliding it to reveal Remus and Peter already seated.

Remus glanced between James and Sirius, blinking, while Peter asked, "Pursuing who? Surely not Lily, anymore?"

James sighed, again. "No, not Lily. I think it's safe to say that _that_ spell has been cast."

"Oh, so this is about her sister?" continued Peter, as James sat heavily in the seat opposite him, next to Remus while Sirius sat next to Peter, sprawling and taking up as much space as he could. He tossed one leg over Peter's, causing the other teen to shoot him a nasty glare.

"Have you elevated Hermione to Lily's old position then?" asked a wry Remus, propping an elbow on the compartment window's lip, and using that to lean his cheek against his hand. "Should we expect some creative spell work from the Ravenclaw after you've enchanted her dishware to serenade her? Will she scream and shout at you when you prank Crouch or Black?"

James slunk in his seat as Remus threw his previous methodology in getting Lily's attention in his face. His shoulders curled in and he muttered, "No."

"Will you chase her down between classes and try to give her flowers?" asked Peter, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leaned forward and continued Remus' line of questioning. "You can't sit next to her in class or dazzle her as a defense partner since you're in different years."

"I - no, I won't do that-" protested James weakly. Suddenly hearing what he used to do to win Lily's attention was embarrassing.

Sirius nodded, wisely saying, "So you're going to just stare at her from the Gryffindor table with a dopey, lovesick look on your face and sigh whenever she does something fetching?"

"I-" James looked around the compartment and the amused looks on his friends' faces and felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Can you change the subject, please?"

Remus, the most sympathetic, gallantly did so. "Were you in Diagon Alley the day of the attack? I remember you mentioned plans during one of our letters…"

James groaned, slouching further in his seat.

Bewildered, Remus and Peter exchanged glances as Sirius snickered. Peter asked, "What's Prongs' problem?"

"Oh, we were both there when the attack happened," replied Sirius, shooting a bit of a smirk at James, who slipped further down the seat until he was nearly horizontal, his butt hanging off the edge. "He's just pissed 'cause those nutters interrupted his date-"

"Date?!"

"What?"

" _Padfoot_ ," whined James, closing his eyes and wishing the floor would swallow him. _Maybe I can dig out my invisibility cloak?_ The idea sounded well, and James decided to shelve it for future embarrassments.

"What date was this?" asked Remus, leaning forward so that he was looking down at James, hovering above him. "Did you go on a date with Hermione?"

"It wasn't exactly like that," muttered James.

"It kind of was exactly like that," rejoined Sirius, a wicked glint in his eyes.

Peter's head bounced between Sirius and James when he asked, eagerly, "Well? What happened? Did you get together?"

James sat up, forcing Remus back and scowled at his friends, all of who were watching him. "Since when do you lot care so much for my love life, huh? Why aren't we asking Padfoot about his dates? Or you, Moony? Wormtail?"

"I'm not interested in anyone right now," shrugged Peter.

Remus took his free hand and pointed it at himself, saying in a self-deprecating voice, "Werewolf."

And Sirius just shrugged.

"Ugh," replied James, crossing his arms.

"Anyway," continued Sirius, "Jimmy and the wee Evans ended up together after Reg and I went for lunch."

"The two of you were together when the attack happened?" asked an alarmed Remus. "Where were you? Were you alright?"

"First of all," began James, annoyed, "It wasn't a date. We went shopping for Yule presents, talked about her sister-" at the others' looks, James elaborated, "the _muggle_ one, Petunia. _And then_ we met with my parents and were having lunch-"

"She _met_ your _parents_?" squeaked Peter, eyes wide.

James stuttered, "I - what? Yes?"

"Merlin," breathed Peter, exhaling loudly and sitting back in the cushions. He shook his head. "On the first date, too."

"It wasn't a date!" protested James. "And besides, nothing happened before the window blew in-"

" _The window blew in?"_ repeated Remus, mouth dropping open. "You didn't say that in your letters!"

Even Sirius was frowning, staring hard at James as the Potter began to squirm in his seat. "Well, I…"

"What happened, Prongs?"

"Yeah Prongs," added Sirius, something tight in his voice as his eyes bore into his best friend. "What happened?"

"Nothing," said James after a moment. He looked at his friends equally and emphatically added, "Nothing. The window blew in, some people were attacking the Alley, and my parents stepped in and Apparated us to Hermione's house to get her home."

Remus and Peter seemed to have bought the explanation, but Sirius's narrowed eyes made James mentally wince - for a moment, he forgot that Hermione was friends with his little brother, who he was beginning to mend fences with.

In the meantime, Remus brought up their final semester course material for NEWT prep, drawing Peter into a conversation, which James did his best to add to. The Hogwarts Express began to move, and soon the Marauders ended up speaking about their final project: the Marauder's Map and its completion.

The trip back to Hogwarts passed uneventfully, and James forgot all about Sirius's earlier attitude until they stepped off the train and walked toward the horseless carriages.

Remus and Peter were ahead, Remus shuffling the younger students where they needed to as Prefect; it was then that Sirius drew James away from much of the crowd, toward the back of the line for the carriages until they were at the end of the train station platform, surrounded by piles of luggage being unloaded by sightless house elves.

"Sirius?" asked James, blinking at his friend.

Sirius himself stood still, a frown on his handsome face as he surveyed his best friend - his brother - for a few long moments. Then, he spoke.

"You lied," said Sirius, his voice low.

"I'm sorry?"

Sirius's grey eyes were more steel as they darkened. "More happened at Diagon Alley. You lied to us. To Moony, Wormtail. _To me_."

James swallowed thickly. "How - how did you know?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Evans sent Reggie a letter. Mentioned she got hurt in the attack and your mum was nice enough to heal her."

James was instantly thrown back to the moment of the attack: of Hermione being hit and sent skidding back, tumbling to the cobblestones before rolling swiftly to her feet and flinging a spell back-

" _-mes_? James?!"

Sirius had his hands on James' shoulders and was shaking him. As things came back into focus, James kept his eyes on his friend, taking in Sirius's worried look.

"I'm okay," he replied automatically. "Sorry."

"You scared me," muttered Sirius, eyes flicking searchingly all over James' face. "Where did you go? What happened that day?"

James glanced away. "Hermione did get hurt. It - it wasn't _terrible,_ but it wasn't… it wasn't anything good, either. She fought, and I helped her. So did mum and dad, until the wizards and witch left. Then the Aurors appeared, but dad Apparated us away. That's… that's all, Padfoot."

Sirius was still searching James for any more lies, but slowly, he nodded, accepting the excuse and explanation the Potter gave. Just as slowly, he said, "Alright. Alright, then."

They climbed into one of the last carriages before it meandered down the line to stragglers, but the ride was silent.

James, still caught up in what he witnessed and participated in over the holidays, found himself reliving those horrible memories and still felt as inadequate as he had when he tried to help Hermione; whatever his father said, yes, he handled himself well but compared to her? And what if those wizards and witch came back? Tried to attack again, or - Merlin forbid - realized who Hermione was and attacked _her_?

The thoughts lingered with James all throughout the returning feast for January, and even for the following weeks as he began to pile more homework and readings in preparation for his NEWTs. He continued to meet Hermione in the library - in their corner in the Arithmancy section - every Friday.

But something had changed within him. There was a bit of a paler quality to his skin, and he threw himself into his schoolwork with a gusto he only had previously done for pranks. Remus was deliriously happy, and Sirius was deliriously annoyed. Peter oscillated between both, as he benefited from James' tutelage and Sirius' attention when James was busy.

The only time the four came together in the evenings was to continue to work on their map, applying the finishing touches and spell work.

"Just think of all the pranks we will be able to accomplish with this!" whispered an excited Sirius one evening near the end of January, a pleased glint in his light eyes.

"Just think of all the books I can take out and continue to read," countered Remus.

Peter added, "Or all the snacks we can sneak back from the kitchen!"

Waiting for James to add his two knuts, the three looked at him, but he only looked back, a bit like a startled stag in the face of a car's bright headlights.

"Prongs?" prompted Sirius, an intense look on his face.

"Just think of all the hiding spots we can find and use!" he finally said, though his tone was forced.

The other three were not convinced but said nothing. All turned back to the parchment as Remus cast the final spell and watched as inky black lines spilled forced and crisscrossed and zigzagged their way all over the large parchment, turning empty spaces into boxy squares or large rectangles, or even angular corners. Then, fading into view, were footmarks with a tiny banner indicating that person's name.

"Merlin!" breathed Sirius, excitedly. "We can see where _everyone_ is!"

"Is that Dumbledore, pacing in his office?" asked an excited Peter, pointing at one corner of the parchment.

"It is!" replied Remus, mouth open and delight in his face.

But James skimmed over and over until reaching the Ravenclaw tower and easily picked out Hermione's name hovering in a single spot - probably her room. And, in the privacy of his mind, he added what he wanted to say but dared not in front of his friends: _Just think of how I can now keep an eye on Hermione Evans_.

* * *

Like he promised to himself, James kept an eye on Hermione. There was something different about her like she was carrying a heavy weight. He noticed, and he was sure that both Crouch and Regulus knew it too, with the way they watched her sometimes (but not the way he did).

When he used to watch Lily, he would do whatever he could to draw her attention. To make her _look_ at him, to see he was more than a braggart and snob. He knew that Lily sometimes found it creepy, that he would borderline stalk her - but he didn't with Hermione.

Instead, when in the Great Hall for breakfast or lunch, he made sure he was facing the Ravenclaw table (which meant changing seats with Pete) and sitting next to Remus for the first week of school, which put Sirius out. But it gave him the opportunity to watch her without making it too obvious.

(That kind of failed - all his friend knew who he was looking at, but politely didn't say anything since his attraction and crush on Hermione was incredibly different from what he previously did with Lily.)

But he was able to learn more about her, which was what he wanted to do from the beginning - even when they had still been in the "friends" category. And each little thing he learned, he put in a mental box labelled 'Hermione,' ready to pull that information out at any time, if it was necessary.

In February, as he walked by them in the hallway outside the Great Hall, he overheard them making Hogsmeade plans. When Hermione demurred, saying she wasn't going, both boys immediately agreed to stay with her, despite Crouch having just been moaning about a lack of chocolate and Regulus mentioning plans to meet up with a girl he was interested in. James noted it: Crouch and Regulus deferred to Hermione.

In March, a Gryffindor Quidditch practice was scheduled for late Friday evening, running a bare thirty minutes after James and Hermione normally finished their tutoring session. Of course, James took advantage of their time together and often remained with her in the library for a few hours after, but this time, Sirius, Remus, and Peter arrived to drag him out - he was captain after all!

James had turned to Hermione, asking, "Are you going to watch the practice?"

Hermione had frowned, shaking her head. "I - I don't go to matches."

"Why not?" Peter had asked.

"No reason," the Ravenclaw had replied, but there had been something cagey in her tone that James had heard. She had also turned away from his friends, keeping her eyes downward and shoulders curled in, facing James despite Peter speaking.

Instead of pressuring her (which he would've done with Lily), James had reached out and touched her shoulder. "That's fine," he had said instead, smiling winningly at her, flashing bright teeth. "Why don't we walk you out, though? And halfway back to the Ravenclaw tower?"

She had seemed to not know what to say to stop them, so she had gathered her books. James had kept in step with her, but as soon as they were out of the slightly busy library, into the empty halls, Hermione had moved so that she was on the outside of the group, on James' side. James had been puzzled until he realized: she was actively avoiding being near Peter and Remus. She had kept her eyes forward or away from the side they were on (on Sirius's other side, who was nearly attached at James' hip), and although she had answered questions Remus asked of her, Hermione had kept her replies short and pointed.

In April, he noticed that something happened between her and Regulus. Crouch seemed ambivalent to whatever was going on (or, rather, he knew what Hermione was up to while Regulus didn't, and didn't care, which James thought was more likely), but whatever happened between Regulus and Hermione seemed to have spooked the Slytherin, because he appeared at breakfast on Monday morning paler than usual, and less put together than normal; enough so that Sirius made a tiny noise upon seeing him.

And, in May, from his seat at the Gryffindor table one afternoon, he watched with morbid fascination as Hermione had reached the doors to the Great Hall to leave at the same time that Lily arrived. The two sisters paused where they stood: Lily with her friends from Gryffindor on the outside of the hall, with Hermione on the inside and with Crouch at her elbow.

Both had remained silent for a long moment before Marlene had muttered something and Lily was forced to move. But James watched as Hermione strode forward, purposefully with Crouch, with Lily mimicking her… until the very last moment when the redhead Gryffindor turned back and craned her neck to watch Hermione disappear. And when Lily had sat down at her usual spot at the table, James could see that she seemed despondent, despite the animated expressions and laughter of her friends around her.

As if she had sensed him, Lily had looked up and caught James' eyes. Marlene had also noticed, and called loudly, "Alright, Potter?" at him. In response, he had slid his hazel eyes toward Marlene, nodding at both her and then Lily before excusing himself and leaving the Great Hall as well.

(And, as much as he could, he tried to ignore what he overheard as he left: Marlene asking Lily, "What's going on with him? I thought he fancied you," and Lily's reply, a bit short and terse, "No, not anymore - thank _Merlin_.")

It wasn't until the end of the semester, in June, when one evening after the others in his dormitory went to sleep, that James snuck the Marauder's Map from Sirius' bag and crept back into his bed, drawing the curtains around for privacy.

With his wand in one hand and the map in the other, he whispered, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Inky lines grew from the center of the folded paper, and with bated breath, James' eyes began to search for Hermione's name on the map, beginning with the Ravenclaw tower.

She wasn't there.

James blinked in surprise and then frowned. _Where is she?_

He began to flip through the numerous edges and folds of the map, growing more frantic as he did so, unable to locate Hermione. Suddenly, his heart clenched in fear. _Hogwarts is supposed to be one of the safest places in the wizarding world - but what if those dark wizards managed to get in? What if they figured out who Hermione was that day?_

Sucking in a harried breath, James' flipping took on sudden haste, to the point that he tore a tiny edge of the new map, wincing as he did so.

And then he spotted her, on the fourth floor, along with Crouch. They were moving somewhere, toward the stairs and then up another flight. With a frown, he watched as their feet - representing them on the map - moved down the hallway and toward a different wing than where they began, and toward another set of stairs closer to the Gryffindor tower.

 _I know she doesn't fancy Crouch,_ thought James, tucking his wand between his teeth as he reached for a discarded sweater in Gryffindor red and his invisibility cloak.

Stealthily, he slipped between his curtains, glancing at Remus and Peter's closed ones and Sirius's drawn curtains; no movement came from Remus's bedside - he was a heavy sleeper - and Peter was snoring loudly. Sirius was curled tight into a ball in the middle of his bed with the covers pulled over his head and not moving.

James tiptoes past Sirius's bed, toward the door, and inched it open, flickering light from a single wall sconce spilling into the dark boy's dormitory and lighting on James' empty bed. He held his breath, but no one stirred, so he slipped through the gap and soundlessly closed the door behind him.

The Common Room was empty as well, with a slight orange tinge to it from the fading embers of a dying fire in the fireplace. There was a stillness to the room, an air of anticipation, and James ate it up as he slipped the invisibility cloak over his head and pushed the frame open.

The portrait snorted, blinking awake blearily as the Fat Lady demanded, "W-What? W-Who's there?" only to mumble a bit more and then fall back to sleep, snoring lightly as her double chins rested on her ample bosom.

No one stopped James as he meandered down the hallways, sticking close to the shadows despite having his invisibility cloak on. He kept one eye on the Map as he watched where Hermione and Crouch were going, and one eye on his surroundings in case there were any patrols.

Hermione and Crouch didn't seem to care that they were out after curfew. In fact, they had all the appearance of taking a Sunday stroll by the time James caught up with them on the seventh floor. Both were walking in the middle of the hall, side by side, not bothering to lower their voices or disillusion themselves from the portraits.

"-aren't we using our usual room?" asked Crouch, a tiny whine in his voice as he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets. He was still wearing his day clothes but went _sans_ robe.

"I wanted to show you something different," replied Hermione evenly, glancing up at her friend.

James was careful to stay downwind of Crouch, closer to Hermione's side than his as he inched up behind them until he was only a few meters away.

"Different?" Crouch seemed to perk up at the word.

"Do you trust me?" Hermione asked in response, stopping by a blank space of wall opposite a portrait of dancing trolls. Her eyes were wide and imploring as she peered up at her friend who towered over her by a good foot and a half.

Crouch solemnly stared down at Hermione for a long moment, before a corner of his mouth twitched. "More than I think even you know."

Hermione's brows furrowed in puzzlement, but she took the cryptic words in stride. "Don't move," she instructed, and then began walking back and forth in front of the blank wall, three times.

 _What is she-_ James' thought cut off and he froze, squashing the desire to gasp as a door appeared on the blank wall; at the same time, Crouch let out a tiny yelp of surprise, stumbling a bit back.

"Well, don't just stand there like a numpty," chided Hermione with a grin. "Come on in!"

Crouch didn't hesitate, launching himself forward just as Hermione yanked open the door. They two stepped through and James hurried after them, slipping in not a moment too soon as the door shut behind him.

Crouch whistled long and loud, his hands on his hips and his head tilted back as he took in the space. "What is this place?"

James had the same question. He had never heard of a room with an appearing door, and he and his friends had mapped the entire school.

The room itself was large and grand, like a dueling room. The floor was slick marble and the walls the same kind of stone that made up Hogwarts, but there were towering, thick columns in grey that spiralled up into a high, receding ceiling and wooden cross beams cutting between the columns and along the sides of the room. There were no windows, and the angled ceiling created a Cathedral-like feeling of silence and awe.

James hesitated to move, sure that his steps would be heard; instead, he waited until the two were speaking again and mutter _silencio_ on his shoes - which belatedly, he realized he should've done earlier - and then settled himself against one of the columns to watch.

"Welcome to the Room of Requirements," began Hermione, grandly gesturing with one hand.

"Room of Requirements? Does that mean - anything I require, it will provide?" asked Crouch curiously.

Hermione nodded. "For the most part. The limit really is your imagination in here."

"How did you find - never mind." Crouch quickly changed topics, shaking his head. "So what are we doing in here then?"

"We're going to practice your spell casting," said Hermione, walking further away from where James stood, more toward the center of the large rectangular room. She left Crouch standing where he was, arms crossed.

Crouch scowled. "We could've done that in our usual practice room!"

"But this time you're going on the offensive, Barty!" called Hermione, a wide grin on her face. "You've been doing great with your nonverbal casting - but let's put it to the test!"

" _Why_?" he groaned, but gamely did as Hermione instructed and withdrew his wand. He settled into a slightly flourished dueler's position. "D'you want to conjure some practice dummies for me, or what?"

Hermione shook her head, turning her body sideways as she spoke. "You're going to fight me."

Crouch immediately dropped the position, standing up straight and staring hard at his best friend, while James found himself inching forward, his wand in his own hand.

"No."

"Barty-"

"Hermione, _no_. If there is one person in this Merlin-forsaken place that I _won't_ ever fight, it's you." There was something hard and dark in Crouch's eyes as James drew level with him, but still far enough away that hopefully, the partially infected wizard wouldn't notice him.

Something softened in Hermione as she stared back. "You need to learn this, Barty."

"I do not!" the reply was snapped back quickly, an underlying quiver in Crouch's tone as he spoke.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to say that you do. Things are changing-"

"Is this about Diagon Alley?" he broke in, a heavy frown on his face. "The Aurors will take care of them, you know, the wizards and witch that attacked-"

"It doesn't really-" Hermione stopped and bit her lip, looking skyward for a moment. "Okay, so it _does_ have something to do with that. But you should also know how to use your magic defensively-"

"I don't _want_ to know how to use my magic defensively, and certainly not against my best friend-"

Hermione stomped her foot and a wordless noise of frustration emerged from her at the same - as did a small tremble in the marble flooring as it cracked where her stomped foot came down, creating a small pocket of dented stone. A few webbed lines split from the circle toward Crouch.

James' mouth dropped open.

Crouch was staring at her. "Did you just-?"

Hermione was staring at the floor as well, where her left foot was significantly lower than the right. "I think I did."

"Have you lost control like that before?" he asked, and James swivelled his head toward the tall, brown-haired Ravenclaw.

 _Lost control? Before? Hermione's done accidental magic like this? But - she's so in_ control, he thought in confusion.

"During the attack," the witch replied softly, nodding slowly, "In Diagon Alley. My magic responded with me realizing it when I saved-"

 _Saved my parents,_ James finished the words in his head, even though Hermione clamped her mouth shut tight.

"You're sure you didn't say a spell?" pressed Crouch, moving a few steps closer. There was worry in her tone and it was all over his face as he stared at his friend. "You didn't cast anything, it was just - the transmutation?"

James' brows furrowed. _Transmutation? Like… alchemy?_

Hermione was staring down at her hands. "Even since I cracked it, it's getting easier to wield. Instinctual. It's getting harder to remember to cast a spell with my wand when - when things are just…"

Crouch made a noise, low in his throat. "Hermione-"

She looked up then, something hard in her eyes. "That's why I want you to fight me, Barty. Yeah, you need to practice anyway, but I also need to be able to use my wand to fight back. I can't trust transmutation. Not yet."

Crouch was silent for a long, long time before he sighed, long and deep. "Okay. Alright."

The smile Hermione sent Crouch made James' breath hitch.

"Come at me," teased Crouch, falling into a traditional dueler's position, facing sideways with one arm extended behind for balance and his wand hand elevated above his head.

Hermione stared for a long moment and then went, "No, no, you're doing it wrong," moving forward and readjusting Crouch's form, nudging his arm and body with firm hands.

It was enough that James felt jealousy begin to settle low in his stomach as he watched the girl he liked manipulate her best friend's body until Crouch was standing in a completely different form.

"Sideways is good, presents a smaller target, but why in God's name would you have your wand out like that? A well-aimed _expelliarmus_ would leave you wandless!"

Crouch smiled down at his friend in fondness until he asked, "Is this better?"

Hermione nodded firmly. "Yes. Okay. Now, remember, nonverbal casting only! I'll block and be on the defense."

Crouch nodded and James watched as they kept a good twenty meters from one another in the large room, both watching the other for long, terse moments-

James startled when Crouch flew into a flurry of multi-coloured spells, each aimed at his friend. The riotous colours of red, green, blue and even white made James' breath catch and his hand gripped his wand tightly in response, wanting to leap forward and cast a shield - Hermione still hadn't moved -

 _Hermione!_ He shouted in his mind.

And then she twisted her ankle, just so, pivoting in her spot. Below her pivoted toe, something gold appeared, and James squinted, trying to focus on it -

A circle blew outward from her foot, several connected circles and lines between the transmutation equation. The glowing golden lines sparked and hissed as electricity raced along the markings within the circles and then shot up in a semicircle around Hermione, creating a glowing, golden shield of pure light.

Crouch's spells bounced harmlessly off it, pinging loudly and then ricocheting to different directions. The red spell hit one of the columns and tore a chunk of heavy rock from it.

Crouch lowered his wand. "That wasn't a _protego_."

" _That_ was what I meant by instinctual," sighed Hermione in response, bringing a hand up to rub at her collarbone. "I'm barely moving, barely thinking of what I need and then - _bam_! My knowledge of transmutation takes over and I'm manipulating everything around me.

"What did you do?" asked Crouch.

Hermione frowned. "I - I think I transmuted the air."

James froze.

"I'm sorry," said Crouch, his incredulous tone matching James's own feelings. "Did you just say that you think you transmuted the _air_?"

 _Holy Merlin,_ thought James, staring at Hermione in a new light. She didn't need his help in a fight; she had already shown she could handle herself, but now _knowing_ just far advanced her magic was…!

He frowned, feeling slightly inadequate, only to then shame himself. It wasn't a competition of who was magically stronger - after all, Crouch and Regulus clearly were not in the same league as Hermione, either - but after what happened in Diagon Alley, James never wanted to feel as outclassed as he did, with Hermione handling much of the fight. His rock troll only distracted the wizards until his father's magic added to it, stabilizing his transfiguration.

 _I need to improve,_ thought James, slowly inching away as the two continued to speak about Hermione's thoughts on her abilities. _She clearly thinks that it is necessary for her friends to learn how to fight. Then… she must have a good reason for it. But if she fights again, it won't be alone. I want to help, too._

So, he settled in, leaning against the column as he sank to his knees and then rear, sitting comfortably under his invisibility cloak as he watched Crouch and Hermione engage in a mock battle for several hours, cataloging and watching the Ravenclaw witch with careful eyes.

* * *

On one of the first days of summer vacation, James - still on Hogwarts time - arrived at the breakfast table with his perpetually messy hair, smothering a yawn as he mumbled, "mornin'," only to stop and stare.

"You'd best get a joke in now, son," rumbled an amused Charlus Potter as he stared at his son from over the rim of his glasses, his thin lips turning up in a smirk.

"I - you're -" James stopped and took in a breath. "Dad, why're you in _muggle_ clothes?"

Next to her husband at the table, Dorea delicately stirred her teaspoon into her drink and answered for him. "Charlus was invited to spend time in Cokeworth today, darling-"

" _Cokeworth_?" repeated James, dumbstruck.

"-yes, Cokeworth, James," there was a slight hint of ire in Dorea's voice as she looked at her son. "Do pay attention. He's been invited to a party-"

" _A party?"_ the young Gryffindor choked out.

"Goodness, James," said Charlus, bewildered and vaguely hurt. "Is this so difficult to believe that your old man can go out and cut a rug?"

James stopped, turning to face his father. "No, Dad, that's not it - erm…" He took a deep breath. "Sorry, let's start again. Why were you invited to a party in Cokeworth of all places? The only family we know there is the Evans'…" James' eyes went wide as he trailed off.

Charlus gave his son a knowing look. "I kept in contact with Leonard Evans, after that horrible event in Diagon Alley, when the youngest Miss Evans hurt herself."

James sat heavily in his usual seat, looking between his parents. "So, now, you're… what? Friends with Mr. Evans?"

Charlus chuckled. "Of a sort, I suppose. Although the invitation for today was more that he was going to be one of only two men surrounded by women for his daughter's birthday."

"Birthday?" James frowned. "But Hermione's birthday is in September and I know Lily celebrates hers at Hogwarts."

"His eldest, James," sighed Dorea, "Do keep up."

"So, you're going as what, moral support?" James's voice held all the skepticism he could muster. "You and some other… man…"

The potential for jealousy rose in James but he ruthlessly squashed it down. He instead eyed his father while absently reaching for a slice of toast to butter.

"Yes," agreed Charlus, eyeing his son with something like amusement, "Leonard said Miss Petunia Evans' suitor would be there. Leonard's brother and parents were unable to attend, so it was to be a strict family affair until he realized that with all three of his daughters and wife, he and Mr. Bowes would be outnumbered."

"I see," mumbled James, looking down at his hand which clenched his toast. "When do you leave?"

"Around noonish," replied his father, still eyeing him.

Dorea, opposite James, sighed loudly. "Darling, with Mr. Evans, Mr. Bowes, and your father attending, the women still outnumber the men. At any formal event, this is hardly acceptable to have an uneven number of male and female guests. Why don't you attend as well to even everything out?"

James's head popped up. "Are you sure, mum?" Then, thinking he sounded too eager, he muttered, "I was thinking of doing some flying around the pitch…"

"James. Please," said Dorea, "Just go."

So, at noon, James found himself casually dressed in nice slacks and a button-up shirt with a sweater over it - in what his mother thought was fashionable "nice" Mugglewear - as his father side-along Apparated him to Cokeworth.

They landed near the quarry again, with Charlus flicking his wand to remove any dust or stains that appeared when they landed in the dirt. The walk to the Evans' house was quiet, James tense with nerves at seeing Hermione again and speaking to her, especially only a few weeks after he had snuck into the Room of Requirement to see her practice her magic with Crouch.

Charlus seemed to take no notice of his surly son, and soon he was knocking on the last house of a street, which opened to reveal Leonard Evans, who grinned widely at seeing the two wizards.

"Charlus! Thank you so much for coming," he greeted, stepping back. As he did so, he glanced back into the hall and dropped his voice. "No, seriously, thank you. There's been so much lace and frills-"

Charlus chuckled. "Glad to oblige. I hope you don't mind that I brought my son, James, along?"

"Not at all," replied Leonard, glancing curiously at the black-haired teenager who was the bane of Lily's Hogwarts years (from his teasing and pranks), while being Hermione's friend, tutoree, and, slightly more worrisome, skirmish partner. "It's nice to finally meet you, James. I'm afraid to say that you've been a rather popular topic in our household for many years."

James cringed, blushing a furious red. "Mr. Evans - I am so sorry - I must apologize regarding my previous behaviour toward your daughter-"

"Which one?" the man asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Uh…" James froze.

Leonard and Charlus exchanged a look between them, and then Leonard was shaking his head. "Come on, join me in the living room for a bit. Sean's in there too - Rose's going a bit frantic in her planning. We're going to the carvery in town, that alright?"

"Uh, yes sir," stuttered James, glancing at his father for directions.

The three men entered the living room through a side door. The television was on, but muted, and was showing a football match. There was a couch and then two armchairs, and two seats of the couch were occupied by a burly young man - whom James thought had all the presence of a Quidditch beater - and a tall, thin young woman with blonde hair, whom he had seen before during his last visit to the house.

"Pet, Sean," began Leonard, gesturing, "This is Charlus Potter and his son. James attends school with Lily and Hermione," Charlus finished, turning to speak to Sean directly.

"Hey mate," the other man in the room said, standing to greet them. It meant withdrawing his arm from behind Petunia's shoulders, and she sighed, standing as well.

Charlus shook his hand, and then James did, although he was much more nervous than he thought in officially meeting Petunia and her boyfriend compared to when he saw her at Yule, scrubbing dirt from Hermione's cheek.

"Hey," greeted James, swallowing thickly. He turned to Petunia. "And, um, happy birthday."

"Thank you," replied Petunia.

The three stood awkwardly for a moment. Charlus and Leonard were in the armchairs, loudly discussing the match that they unmuted. James reached up to run his hand through his hair, and then realized what he was doing and cringed again when he saw Petunia eyeing him.

The door to the living room creaked open and Lily stepped in, looking down and fiddling with her blouse as she tucked it into her skirt. "Why couldn't we have gone to the pub instead, Tuney? Then I wouldn't've had to dress up-"

She froze upon seeing James. "Potter! What are you going here?"

"Erm, well," began James, flicking his eyes everywhere.

"I invited him," interrupted Petunia, narrowing her eyes on her younger sister. James's head swiveled to stare at her in surprise since he was certain that she had _not_ invited him. "Since he's good friends with Hermione."

Lily frowned. "So why don't I have a friend coming as well? I can-" she bit her lip and cut a glance at Sean before speaking again "-contact Marlene or Alice-"

"No," retorted Petunia quickly.

James and Sean exchanged nervous glances as the air between the two sisters began to chill.

Petunia continued coolly, "It's my birthday, Lily. I say who comes."

The two sisters glared at each other, leaving James and Sean awkwardly standing at Petunia's side; Charlus and Leonard seemed to be completely engrossed in what they were doing and missed the exchange completely.

Another woman, smartly dressed in soft sage green and white that complimented her auburn locks entered the room next, stopping with a surprised, "oh!" as she caught sight of James. She then turned to her husband. "Leo! You didn't tell me we had guests arrive!"

As James watched Mrs. Evans greet Charlus, Petunia nudged his side. James started, blinking at her while Sean hid a snicker. "Huh?"

"We're going to leave soon. You should go get Hermione," instructed Petunia, with something of an encouraging nod at him.

Lily immediately scowled. " _I_ can go get Hermy-"

"James can go get Hermione," repeated Petunia firmly, and then latched onto Lily's arm and said loudly, catching their mother's attention, "Mum! Lily's having trouble hearing things at the moment - I'm worried her ears are blocked with wax! Do you think we have some fish oil that we can use to clean them out?"

"Oh, oh, Lily dear," fussed Mrs. Evan.

Petunia took an opportunity to turn and glance at James over her shoulder, with a smirk on her face that wasn't unlike those James had seen on Slytherin's when they were plotting something - or, for that matter, Sirius's face.

"Upstairs, second door," she hissed.

This time, Sean didn't try hiding his huff of laughter.

James took the hint and edged from the room until he was back in the tiny hall and then walking upstairs. It was an odd feeling; he had never been in a purely Muggle home before and the lack of movement on the family pictures hanging from the wall was plain strange - and he had certainly never been explicitly told to go into a _girl's_ room before.

There weren't many doors on the second landing: one was wide open to a bathroom; one was partially closed but a peek instead showed a very neat and organized "adult" room. There were two other doors - both 'second' and opposite of one another - and only one of them would be Hermione's room. But did she share with Petunia, or with Lily?

As James pondered, caught in his thoughts as he tried to deduce which Hermione would be in, strains of music caught his attention. There was a heavy guitar riff, followed by a pause and then the rift again. A muffled man's voice singing accompanied the music.

Clearing his throat, James knocked on the door. The music didn't stop, nor did anyone shout for him to enter. He knocked again, louder - but still, nothing.

With nothing for it, he summoned his Gryffindor bravery and turned the knob, entering the room slowly in case he needed to make a quick retreat. Instead, after opening the door, he froze at the sight that greeted him.

And slowly, a smile began to split across his face.

Hermione stood in the middle of the room, separated by two single beds and a large wardrobe overflowing with her muggle wear. A suitcase, open with neatly organized clothes, lay on the other bed, and there were faint, lighter marks on the wallpaper that indicated where posters or pictures rested but had now been removed. That side was Petunia's, while Hermione's was a mess, and, as James grinned, so was Hermione.

A record player rest on a side table next to Hermione's bed and was in the process of moving through its song. Hermione was enjoying it, bent at the waist and letting her long, red-tinged brown hair swish back and forth as she headbanged.

" _So I took a big chance at the high school dance / With a missy who was ready to play / Was it me she was foolin'? / 'Cause she knew what she was doin' / Told me how to walk this way / She told me to-"_

Hermione tossed her head back and pretended to strum an imaginary guitar, eyes closed and a frown of concentration on her face.

James was caught between stifling a laugh and swallowing thickly; laughing at her antics, and having trouble swallowing as his eyes roamed down her curly hair to her bare shoulders. She wore only a black bra to cover her top, and then his eyes roved down her toned stomach to the black capris that hugged her hips and long legs, and then caught on the brightly painted blue toenails.

As Steve Tyler sang, "walk this way," Hermione turned to face James and opened her eyes.

She shrieked, leaping backward and bumping her hip into the side table, causing the needle to skip over the record and off the turntable.

He waved sheepishly. "Hello."

"Jesus _Christ_ ," she snapped, turning and hastily snatching up a short-sleeve blouse that was on her bed. She clutched it to her chest. "What the fuck, James?!"

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly, turning to present his back to her as she shrugged the blouse on. He couldn't stop grinning.

"You don't sound it," she grumbled. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Your dad invited mine to your sister's birthday lunch," explained James, resisting the urge to turn and face her when speaking. "And my mother noted that there would be an uneven number of men and women, so suggested I join."

Hermione snorted and touched James's shoulder. He turned to face her, quickly wiping the smile from his face but his cheeks were still flushed, and his hazel eyes were bright.

She scowled, pointing at him. "Don't!"

"Wasn't gonna," he cheerfully replied.

"Hermione! James! We're heading out now," called Leonard from downstairs. "Come down!"

James followed a grumbling Hermione as she stomped down the stairs, fighting the urge to whistle. But he quickly schooled his face upon seeing Hermione's parents and his father, as well as a glowering Lily.

Petunia, however, sent him a wink then left him reeling. _What the hell? Did she set that up?_

The large group walked into town, to the carvery. The Evans' were careful when speaking to James, trying to keep from revealing information about magic in front of Sean, but were able to keep to generic topics such as the weather and politics until they were sat at their table.

The adults seemed to cluster at one end, leaving Petunia as the birthday girl at the opposite head, with Sean on her right and Hermione on her left; James quickly sat next to Hermione while Lily sat opposite him, with her mother next to her and Charlus next to James. Leonard Evans took the other head, and soon they had ordered their drinks and got up to the buffet.

It was only once they began eating did James's nerves return, s Sean turned to him and asked, "So, James. You attend the same school as Lily and Hermione. How do you know them?"

James fiddled with his fork and moved his food around but answered, "Lily and I are in the same house. Hermione was actually tutoring me for the past two years."

"Really? In what?" Sean glanced at Hermione. "I knew you were a genius, Hermione-"

"Maths," she answered, bored. "James is terrible at it."

"I am not!" James automatically protested.

Hermione cut her eyes at the teenager sitting beside her and smirked.

"Well," he amended, "Not anymore, at least."

"Does that mean you did well in your exam?" asked Sean curiously, leaning a bit forward.

James nodded. "Yeah, I got an Exceeds-"

Opposite him, Lily scowled deeply and shifted in her seat, at the same time sending her foot out and kicking James in the shin.

" _Yeoooww-_!" James stopped and looked at Petunia's terrified face and Hermione's raised eyebrows before quickly altering, "an exceedingly high mark."

"James isn't that interested in academics," Lily quickly inserted, with the tiniest frown on her face as she tossed her hair back, glancing at Sean sitting beside her. "He's much more interested in being a bully and pranking people." Hermione snorted into her broccoli, causing Lily to glare at her. "Do you disagree, Herms?"

Glancing up from under her brows, Hermione asked, "When did you last see James play a prank, _Lils_?"

Lily opened her mouth to retort, but then thought about the question and stopped. James watched her as her mind whirled through the past months at Hogwarts, and even he could admit it had been _months_ since he had engaged in a prank at the same level that he used to do.

Feeling a bit more confident with himself, James leaned back, stretching and placed his arm behind Hermione's chair, resting it along the back. Hermione tensed but then loosened immediately afterward, turning back to her vegetables as Lily gapped, open-mouthed at James.

"I take my studies very seriously," he said, turning back to Sean, who had been watching the three carefully. "A lot of the pranks I did in the past did have an element of research to them-"

"Like what?" asked Sean, interested, and leaning forward.

James, feeling pleased with the question and the interest the other teenager showed, leaned forward as well, brushing into Hermione's personal space as he spoke across the table. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lily, utterly bewildered at how easily he got along with the muggle. After a bit longer, she just blinked, shaking her head, and turned to her mother to join her in conversation.

For the next hour or so, over the rest of lunch and dessert, James enjoyed himself as he learned about Sean - who was also an athlete - and even Petunia. He knew he had won points when he asked about her university career and mentioned her Christmas present that Hermione got for her, and the blonde had beamed back, enthusing about how much she loved the variety pack.

And throughout it all, at his side, Hermione never once shifted away from him. She didn't turn and ask him to remove his arm, nor did she shy away from his body.

Risking things a bit more, as the group began to stand and stretch, ready to walk back to the house, James found himself at the back of the group with Hermione at his side. In front of them, Petunia and Sean walked arm-in-arm, while Lily walked with her parents and Charlus.

Hermione's hand brushed against his as they walked, and after a few moments, at the next brush, his hand turned slightly and caught hers.

Hermione froze.

Keeping his face forward, swallowing nervously, James shifted so his hand gripped hers. He did his best to ignore that his palm was a bit sweaty, and his pulse was fluttering rapidly against his wrist in those brief moments it took for Hermione to react.

But then she shifted her grip and curled her fingers against his.

James exhaled loudly, glancing at her and saw her smirk despite looking forward as well. With his free hand, he ran it through his hair and gave a breathless laugh. "I really _did_ do well on my Arithmancy exam. I'm sure it was an Exceeds Expectations, at least."

Hermione turned to face him. "I'm really happy for you. You've worked hard over the years to improve your grade."

"It was all you," he replied with a grin.

She shook her head. "No, it was your hard work. 'Sides, now you don't need me anymore."

The thought of no longer seeing her on Friday nights made his heart clench in his chest and his hand spasmed, gripping her tightly for a moment as it did so.

The two of them slowed down in their walk until they stopped, the rest of the group leaving them behind as the two stood on the side of the street, looking at one another. James took a step closer to her, keeping their hands linked as he peered down at Hermione.

"I think," he said, very quietly, "I'm always going to need you in my life."

Hermione blinked up at him in surprise, her mouth parting into a tiny 'o' as her breath hitched. "James…?"

With his free hand, he brushed some hair off Hermione's forehead. "Just because you don't need to tutor me in Arithmancy, doesn't mean we don't have to spend time together, right?"

"Right…" Hermione nodded slowly, eyes darting all over his face, searching for something.

James took another step closer. They were almost chest to chest. "In fact," he began, his voice dropping lower, "I'd… I'd really like it, if… if…"

Hermione's own reply was a bit breathless. "Yes…?"

"If we spent more time together," said James, rushing the words out, and taking a step back. "Like… Friday nights. But without Arithmancy. And - And - Hogsmeade trips - and sitting together-"

"James," there was amusement in Hermione's voice now. "Are you asking me out?"

"I - yes," he stuttered, nodding once, firmly.

Hermione's mouth twisted up into a pleased smile. "Okay."

James blinked. "What - _okay_?" he squeaked.

"Okay," she repeated, turning to begin walking again.

James felt his lips stretch into a lopsided smile, allowing Hermione to lead him as he was a bit dazed. _She… she said yes!_

But he definitely noticed when she shifted her grip from holding his hand to lacing their fingers together - and he denied it to his father later when they were home, but he was unable to stop smiling for the rest of the day because Hermione Evans had said yes to dating him.

* * *

"Reggie!"

Regulus closed his eyes as he stopped his brisk walk. He felt his form tense, for the briefest moment, and then he deliberately relaxed his shoulders and opened his eyes in time for his cousin to appear around him from behind, wearing traditional witches' robes in black - a bit of a bold choice for her sister's wedding.

"Bella," said Regulus, carefully modulating his voice. Hermione had made it clear that she had fought Bellatrix in Diagon Alley (not that Bella knew who _she_ was fighting), but also that she was a follower of the Dark Lord.

 _She probably knows about the horcruxes,_ he thought, keeping the disgust from his face as he nodded politely.

"Do you have a minute, little coz?" the older witch, nearly thirty, asked. Her eyes went wide, and her lips, painted bloodred, stretched into a wide smile.

"I suppose," replied Regulus, despite not wanting to. "But not too much time; mother has me scheduled to make a toast to Narcissa and Lucius in about twenty."

"Oh, this won't take that long," replied Bellatrix, still with that large, fixed smile on her face. With her wide eyes, it made her look wild and a bit addled like she was doped up on Felix Felicis. "Let's then; 'Dolph is coming, too."

Regulus sighed, turning as Bellatrix did and noticing for the first time that her husband was waiting for them at the end of the hall, the opposite direction Regulus had originally been heading in. The tall, thin wizard with dark brown hair kept his face blank but had his arms crossed and was leaning against the wall in between two portraits that kept eyeing him and tilting their pointy Malfoy chins up in disapproval.

With Rudolphus and Bellatrix bookending him, Regulus sighed and asked in disinterest, hoping it hid the furious pounding of his heart, "And where are we doing?"

"Just to the study, little coz," replied Bellatrix. "I wanted to introduce you to some of the guests Lucius invited but you didn't yet meet."

Regulus's brow furrowed minutely. "I thought I met everyone…"

"Not everyone," chortled Rudolphus, a surprisingly warm sound for a man that was coming across as cold in demeanour.

They approached a nondescript door at the far end of the hall, well away from where the wedding reception was taking place in the ballroom and the other guests. The hallway itself was silent, with their footsteps echoing against the wooden floor and panelled walls.

Rudolphus reached the door first and paused with his hand on the knob. He turned back to face Regulus and said, quietly, "Be polite. Be proud. Be a _Black_."

Bewildered, Regulus blinked, just as Rudolphus knocked with his other hand and hen turned the knob, swiftly entering the room.

Bellatrix urged him inside, and Regulus stepped in.

It was one of the many guest receiving rooms, this one a bit more masculine and probably a smoking room from an era passed, given the heavy dark furniture and the thick curtains that hung from only two windows overlooking the front of the property. Through one, Regulus could see peacocks grazing; the other was blocked by the silhouette of a man - a tall, thin man in tailored wizard's robes - blocking much of the light from the setting sun.

There were a few other wizards in the room - no other women other than Bellatrix, who quickly moved to the chair nearest the standing wizard and perching herself on the arm, crossing her legs - and only a few that Regulus recognized by face, mainly for their fierce, untamed or haughty Pureblood looks. Some were business associates of his father, and the others were known as criminals by the Aurors.

Regulus found himself pausing just a few steps inside the dark room and swallowed thickly as his eyes drew back to the figure by the window, who had very pale hands clasped behind his back.

Slowly, the wizard turned, revealing thinning black hair swept back off his forehead; narrow, piercing green eyes; a long straight nose, and very thin lips. His face was pale, and angular in a way that wasn't quite right. As the man continued to turn, Regulus felt his mouth drying up - the wizard was cloaking himself with his magic, and it _thrummed_ , ready to be unleashed in the barest moment.

His thin lips turned up at the sight of Regulus, and Regulus' legs began to tremble, luckily hidden by the outer folds of his wizard robes.

Then the wizard opened his mouth, and Lord Voldemort purred, "Ah, young Mister Black. I've been looking forward to meeting you for some time, now…"

* * *

TBC...


End file.
